


Give You My Soul.

by cutenewt, starnymphs



Series: Marvel Mythology. [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon Gay Relationship, Caring, Demonic Possession, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Drama & Romance, Emotional, Emotional Backstory, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Plot Twists, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Religious Conflict, Romantic Comedy, Sad and Happy, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutenewt/pseuds/cutenewt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starnymphs/pseuds/starnymphs
Summary: Steve Rogers – adopted by the town’s Priest as a kid, he now works in the church a the age of twenty four. He doesn’t exactly enjoy life as it comes, since usually all it brings it bad luck. But, one miserable night it all turns around... like, completely upside down. All because of a certain someone – well, actually a certain something.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The day couldn’t have gone any worse. One of the chalices came out of the dishwasher dented, someone had misplaced the offering money from the 10 o’clock service, and Mrs. Kowalski had gone off on him like a tiny, seventy-something Polish bomb because he simply didn’t have the time to talk to her about her son. And, at the end of the day, when Steve was finally about to get out of the church and go home, he dropped a bottle of wine. A full bottle. And all of it, shattered glass and deep red wine, pooled on the white altar cloth.

 

And so, hands sticky and stained red from the clean-up, Steve he was really looking forward to grabbing a book, getting into bed, and curling up until it didn’t matter anymore and he could just get to sleep.

 

He sighs as he opens the door to his room -- and then freezes in place.

 

The window was left open. He can see the water pooling on the hardwood floor, soaking into the rug, and, worst of all, the water-warped pages of the book he wanted to read. He swears loudly, probably loud enough to be heard from the street, but at this point he doesn’t even care.

 

He yanks the crucifix off his neck and glares at it for a moment -- then he turns and hurls the silver necklace into the far corner of the room as hard as he can. “God _damn_ it!” He crosses the room, shoving his window the rest of the way up, and then sticks his head out of it to yell at the sky. “Why do you keep doing this to me?!”

 

All he gets for his trouble is a splash of rainwater in the face and a coughing fit. He dries off his face with his sleeve after slamming the window shut and latches it.

 

Steve stands in the middle of the room, just staring ahead of him. His face is a blank canvas of emotions, he’s too tired to feel, and hurting to much to yell anymore.

 

He eventually decides that he’d better at least try to mop up the rain sodden mess on the carpet, and shifts his weight with a heavy sigh to go and fetch a mop.

 

His fingers curl around the cool, metal door handle... hit, something causes him to stop. He turns his body slowly, a shiver curling around his spine accompanied by the eerie feeling of being watched.

 

Steve’s eyes scan the room, doing a double take when he comes to the far left corner. He rubs his eyes, assuming that they must be playing tricks on him. But, upon bringing the balled up fists back down again, there is indeed a darkened figure slouched up against the wall.

 

“Oh, my–”

 

“Please, don’t say it. That’s so predictable.” a male voice complains.

 

His tone isn’t exactly one that would immediately scream ‘serial killer’, but even with this at the back of Steve’s thoughts, he still isn’t exactly comforted by this fact.

 

The figure steps forwards, coming into the dim light of the moon. The lack of darkness captures the intruder’s pale skin and jutted out jawline, making him still blend in slightly with the blackness around him.

 

“‘Cause I really am far from it.” He talks again, looking up as a grin forms over his features.

 

But, when he reveals his eyes they aren’t blue, nor green as you might expect... but, a deep, inky black instead.

 

That’s when a cross between a scream and some sort of spluttering sound escapes Steve’s mouth, as he backs up into the door with a painful thud.

 

“Wh – what do y – you want from me?” He gulps, feeling around his neck area for the cross that was once sat there.

 

The guy slides his hands into his pockets. “Well, first things first...” he trails off, beginning to walk closer to Steve.

 

Steve covers his face with his arms, but the intruder doesn’t go up to him, but instead over to the drawers beside his bed. He opens it up, and takes something out.

 

“I want you to take this,” the man instructs, stepping up to Steve and holding something out in his hand.

 

Peeking out through his fingers, Steve isn’t really sure what to think. There isn’t a knife, nor some deadly and powerful ritual object in his hand... it’s just his blue inhaler.

 

“I – I can’t!” Steve stammers. “It’s unholy now!”

 

The creature scoffs. “Oh, please.” He utters.

  
“Really,” Steve gasps, his eyes wide. “How do I know that won’t kill me if I use it?” He is already backing away, wincing when his feet find the pool of water under the window. “God damn it,” he mumbles, coughing again. Wet feet on top of everything else.

 

“I could use it first, if you want?” The thing jokes.

 

“I don’t find that very funny,” Steve snaps, ignoring how increasingly difficult it’s becoming to take normal breaths.

 

The creature sighed, and takes him by the hand. Steve flinches, expecting to feel at least some form of pain… but, he feels the opposite. The seemingly deadly thing before him is gentle as he wraps Steve’s own fingers around the inhaler.

 

“Honestly, I only came in here because I heard someone cursing at God.” The creature shrugs, his eyes switching to black at the use of the name.

 

Steve’s hands are shaking when he finally brings the small plastic object up to his mouth to use it. He throws it to the floor seconds after, squeezing shut his eyes and whispering a prayer as some form of awkward (considering he’d just yelled directly at the big man himself) precaution.

 

“See,” the creature says. “You’re not dead!”

 

Steve opens one eye at a time. “Why are you still here?” He whispers.

 

“Because…” He raises his hand, and once again Steve jumps backwards. “I’m bored.” With a twist of his fingers, a warm blanket of air engulfs the room.

“Did you just dry my rug?”

 

The creature starts laughing. “Why d’you sound so surprised?” He actually seems to giggle a little bit.

 

Steve folds his arms over his chest. “Because, if you’re what you appear to be, then you should’ve killed me and possessed me by now!” He shouts.

 

“Where’d you learn that?” It asks in a monotone. “Sunday school?” His tone is rather mocking.

 

Steve opens his mouth for a snappy remark, but then seems to think better of it. Even if this thing was being nice, it still probably could kill him. “So what if I did?”

 

The demon rocks back from his heels to the balls of his feet, looking amused. “Doesn’t that sound a little bit like propaganda to you?”

 

“Of course not.” Steve shakes his head, then -- eyeing the demon warily the whole while -- gingerly perches on the edge of his bed. “That’s the way it is.”

 

“Typical,” the demon says with a sigh. “But if you bought that, wouldn’t you be one of those everything-happens-for-a-reason believers? I can smell the doubt on you from here.” He wrinkles his nose, as if to punctuate the point.

 

“Yeah, well…” Steve bites down on his tongue, barely refraining from speaking ill of God, because all his life he’s been around the topic. And, if he truly is to continue working alongside other higher priests, he should probably shut his mouth before an angel comes down to smite him, or something.

 

The demon leans forward. “Well?” he prompts.

 

“Listen, if you’re not gonna kill me, could you leave? I’m really tired.” Steve realises how weird that sentence sounded, but honestly he has no idea what’s going on anymore.

 

The demon lets out a sigh, looking annoyed but still more amused than anything. “You know, I don’t have to do that. Torturing you to exhaustion is usually a part of the job description. But if you insist, just this once, I’ll let it slide.” He smiles a big bad wolf smile that revealed just how sharp his teeth were, and then shrugs. “Try not to die next time.” And with that, he disappears.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

There wasn’t that much on the schedule for Monday -- a lot of meetings, some bureaucratic stuff amongst the priests, but nothing Steve couldn’t handle. Or rather, he should have been able to handle it… except for the fact that, tired as he was, he hadn’t been able to sleep. At all. And he sure as hell blamed that demon.

 

He isn’t looking forward to the _‘next time’_ the demon mentioned. He certainly doesn’t expect ‘next time’ to mean the exact second he left the church grounds. And that is how Steve lands flat on his ass right outside the gate, having jumped about a mile out of his skin when someone cleared his throat right behind him, immediately followed by that eerie feeling.

 

Steve stares up at the demon, squinting in the sunlight. “You again?” He sounds resigned, actually. Maybe he is just too tired to really care, or process, or… anything.

 

“Me again,” the demon agrees, and reaches down to offer Steve his hand. “You okay?”

 

Steve looks from the demon’s hand, and up to his annoyingly friendly face. He heaves himself up from the ground, trying not to act as if this isn’t as much as a hardship as it really is to him right now.

 

“I’m fine, thank you.” He snaps, mentally yelling at himself for thanking such a thing.

 

The demon tilts his head, inspecting Steve’s face a little closer. “You don’t look fine, buddy.”

 

“Well... stop looking then! And – and, I am certainly not your buddy!” He attempts at squaring up to the demon, a newfound surge of confidence rising to the surface... but, being a mere 5’7” doesn’t really scream ‘threatening’ to anyone.

 

Steve backs down, because the demon’s eyes flicker back to black again. He immediately stumbles over his own two feet, letting out a yelp of terror when the demon grabs his wrist to stop him from falling back onto his ass.

 

“Just leave me alone!” Steve tries to run, but of course, the damn thing appears directly in front of him again.

 

Exhausted from all of the running, yelling and politics back at work, Steve collapses against a nearby brick wall. He reaches around in his pocket, but to no prevail. That is, until his inhaler appears literally floating in front of his face.

 

He looks up at the demon, who’s standing in the way of the sunlight for him. His hand is in the same twisted position that it was last night when he had dried the rug for him.

 

“What?” It looks contradictingly innocent. “I didn’t touch it this time!”

 

Thankfully, Steve manages just a few graceless coughs before he catches his breath again, waving the inhaler away. “It doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, catching it before it hits the ground and stowing it in his pocket again. “You’re still messing with it, aren’t you?”

 

The demon merely watches him, his arms folded across his chest. “Not very grateful, are you?”

 

“I didn’t ask you to torment me,” Steve snaps.

 

“You cursed God.” Again, that evil flicker in his eyes. “That’s basically the same thing, you know. But I don’t make the rules.”

 

The rules… In a stroke of brilliance, Steve takes a deep breath, trying to hold onto his nerves. “Exorcizámos te,” he says, his voice carrying, and closes his eyes. The rest of the exorcism somehow manages to come out of his mouth easily, even though he’d never been great shakes at Latin in school.

 

But when he opens them, the demon is still there, watching him, grinning from ear to ear. “That doesn’t work, unfortunately,” he says. He holds up a hand, effectively stopping the mindless babble threatening to escape Steve’s mouth, and shrugs. “This is the real deal here, pal. I tried wearing someone’s body once, but you wouldn’t believe how uncomfortable that is. And it takes weeks to get the smell out.”

 

“What do you even--?”

 

“I’m not possessing someone.” The demon tilts his head to the side, one part curious, the other part… well, unnerving. “This is just me. But that was a pretty good exorcism, if I had been wearing someone’s body I would have just, whoosh, been outta here.” He waves his hand in a vague flying gesture.

 

“But you -- _what?!_ ”

 

“Name’s Bucky, by the way.”

 

“Bucky?!” Steve mimics. “What does that even mean?”

 

“It’s short for James Buchanan, if you must know.” The demon replies.

 

He then extends his hand out towards Steve once more, since he’s still sat on the sidewalk. “I got this,” the man grumbles, pulling his own weight up and this time unintentionally showcasing the pain that it causes.

 

“You know,” Bucky begins, following closely behind Steve. “If I had healing powers, I’d totally get rid of that rising fever of yours. But, only angels get to do that.” He explains, using a mocking voice when he utters the word about the holy creature.

 

Steve is speechless. He doesn’t know what to think, or how to feel about this demon, following him home, telling him he wishes he could heal him? And, wait a minute... “How did you know that?!” He stops so abruptly, that Bucky has to hurriedly teleport himself to be back in front of Steve so as not to crash into the back of him.

 

“I know things.” He shrugs. “I’ve found that I can sense certain stuff that humans can’t right away.”

 

“You’re scaring me again,” Steve mumbles, turning the corner that will get him back home.

 

“That’s what it says on the tin, Stevie!” Bucky chuckles.

 

Steve stops again, his key still half turned in the lock. “I never told you my name!” A few tears form in his eyes, fear squashing him from the inside out.

 

“C’mon now, I knew that the second I arrived last night. I just didn’t wanna freak you out too much, y’know?” Steve isn’t sure whether or not he’s joking, so he angrily wipes his eyes against his jacket sleeve and turns back to his key.

 

It snaps in the lock.

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” The male glares angrily up at the sky again, like that’ll somehow have any effect on the situation.

 

Bucky tries his hardest not to laugh, and snaps his fingers. The key becomes whole again right in front of Steve’s very eyes, then he turns back to the demon behind him.

 

“What can I say expect you’re welcome?” He sings quietly, even adding a small sort of jazz hands dance to go along with it. “Really, nothing?” Bucky sighs, when faced with a bewildered Steve Rogers once again.

 

“Fine,” Steve mumbles. “Thanks. I guess.”

 

Bucky tilts his head back and laughs. “No need to sound so enthusiastic about it.”

 

Steve ignores him, instead shouldering his way through the door. His heart just about bursts in his chest when he opens the door to his bedroom to find Bucky already there, stretched out on the bed like he owned the place.

 

“Nice setup you’ve got here,” he commented dryly.

 

“It is. Now get out.” Steve flinches when Bucky’s eyebrows rise and sort of coolness settles over his features, but stands his ground nonetheless. “I mean it. Out.”

 

Bucky just shakes his head. “Not this time, no.” He lets out a dramatic sigh and tilts his head back, settling more comfortably into the pillow. “This time I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

_“This time I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”_

 

Steve’s facial expression turns from angry, to terrified yet again. “Why?” His voice cracks a little.

 

This small display of sadness urges Bucky to disappear from the bed, and reside back into the corner he had first stood in. “Because... I know things,” He unhelpfully replies back.

 

“It doesn’t make it any better, you standing in the corner like that.” Steve grumbles, going over to his dresser to the other side of the wall Bucky is now leaning up against.

 

He gets out some pyjamas, and then empties his pockets out. “I’m going to shower... uh, don’t, like –”

 

“Steve, I’m not going to spy on you whilst you shower.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

Just as he promised, Bucky awaits Steve’s return whilst he showers. After this, he exits into the small hallway and wanders into the kitchen. He takes a seat on the counter, and waits for Steve to come in.

 

“Didn’t think I’d left now, did you?” The demon grins a little deviously, as Steve jumps upon entering the kitchen to get some water.

 

He opens his mouth to ask how Bucky knew, but decides against it shortly after. Steve gets his water silently, ignoring the fact that there’s an actual demon sitting on top of the work surface. After taking a couple of aspirin, he trudges off to bed.

 

Just as Steve closes his eyes, he can feel the presence again. “Be careful!” Bucky’s voice interrupts his small moment of relaxation. “You don’t wanna get too hot there.” Steve scrunches his eyes even tighter.

 

Trying to take a nap proves useless after a few mind-numbingly anxious seconds. Steve sits up again, sighing, and reached over for the book he never got around to starting the night before. The room is now thankfully empty -- God know knows what Bucky -- no, the demon, Steve reminds himself -- is up to now. Probably out collecting souls. With a shudder, he starts to read.

 

A few chapters later and Steve is crashed on the pillows, the light still on and the book open on his face, a few pages crumpled from him moving in his sleep. If you asked, Steve wouldn’t even be able to tell you what he’d read, but somehow the words on the page had knocked him out more than just having his eyes tightly closed against the demon’s presence.

 

Bucky sticks his head into the room when he returns, curious to see what it is that’s keeping Steve awake -- and just shakes his head at the boy, curled up in a couple of blankets and looking almost too cute. He pauses for a moment, considering that, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that -- had he been any other person -- might have been a swooping butterfly sensation.

 

Instead, he just sighs, reaches over and picks up the book, and marks the page. He settles into his corner, flipping through it himself. He only gets up when the sky starts to darken; then he moves over and shakes Steve awake. “Hey. You need to take your medicine.”

 

He can’t help but notice how warm Steve was to the touch -- and given that Bucky is always warmer than the average human, that is worrisome. He shakes Steve again when he doesn’t stir. “Steve.”

 

Finally, Steve opens his eyes. At first he takes a while to come around, but when he registers that the demon is shaking him awake, he yells out in fear and starts to flail his arms around.

 

Bucky narrows his eyes and sighs. “Are you really gonna do this every time you see me?” He mutters in annoyance, stepping back so that he doesn’t get hit in the face.

 

“Yes... I’d like to hope so.” Steve squeaks, sinking down underneath the covers, hoping that maybe he was dreaming.

 

“Well, I didn’t prepare your medicines for you, because you don’t like me touching your stuff. But, I’m waking you as a reminder.” Bucky says, taking a seat beside the bed again.

 

Steve peeks out from underneath the covers. He slowly gets out of the bed, and stumbles his way into the kitchen.

 

“You should also eat something,” the demon adds, when Steve renters the room.

 

“I could make you soup?” Bucky says, almost a little bit of kindness in his eyes.

 

Steve actually finds himself looking the demon in the eye properly, and noticing how beautifully blue they are. He much prefers this look to the jet black kind, anyway.

 

“Go away,” he mumbles instead, not wanting to address the feeling of affection he had maybe just felt.

 

Steve looks down at his glass of water, watching it swirl round and round due to Bucky mixing it with his index finger. “You and your... demonic powers! Leave me. Or I swear to –”

 

“If you say it, my eyes will turn black.” The word of warning is more than enough for Steve to stop.

 

“I swear to... dog.” Bucky starts laughing.

 

Steve closes his eyes again, because each time the demon laughs or smiles, it makes him look adorably not demonic at all.

 

“Seriously, though. Your medications. I know you need them.” Bucky just watches him for a moment, obviously concerned at the lack of energy put forth to accomplish that task, and sighs. “You need a lot of things.” Humans are delicate, Bucky reasons to himself. And apparently, very stubborn. He turns on his heel and vanishes -- only to appear about five minutes later with what appears to be a bowl of hot soup, conjured up from God-knows-where. “Here. Eat this.”

 

Steve automatically turns his nose up at it. “I can’t eat that!” He exclaims.

 

Bucky doesn’t even ask why this time, he just waits to see what kind of crazy explanation Steve will come up with.

 

But, instead the human curls up into a ball and closes his eyes.

 

“Listen, pal. Wake up and take care of yourself! When I was alive – as in, human alive – soldiers looked out for one another.” Bucky snaps, completely forgetting about the fact that he’s literally only known this human for one damn day.

 

And, he went and revealed something personal. Bucky curses himself mentally, reminding himself why he’d stopped interacting with humans and just stayed wandering. He should’ve wandered right by Steve’s window that night too.

 

But, as if by miracle, Steve takes the bowl from the nightstand where Bucky had placed it. Neither of them utter a word, not even when all of the soup is gone and Steve lies back down again. He falls asleep almost instantly, leaving Bucky with the chance to sweep his hand over his face to reveal a further diagnosis.

 

Of course, Bucky would never do this whilst the fearful human was awake. But, using many of his powers came easy to him... it’s just that humans don’t usually seem to take kindly to any.

 

He sits on the bed next to Steve, going back to his book; for a human, he somehow has good taste. Bucky settled back with a sigh, and before he knew it, several dozen pages later, he was stretched out on his side, with the kid on his side facing him. Steve Rogers, Bucky muses, shaking his head, totally distracted. The problem is, the kid never stops fighting. Not once in his life -- not after his mom, not with his health… Hell, not even with God for electing him this lot in life. It’s kind of inspiring, really, Bucky thinks to himself, resting his chin on his hand and letting out a sigh.

 

At some point, he falls asleep. He wakes up for a moment, in the dead of night, when Steve’s arms wrap around him and draw him close, but the next moment he’s drifted off again, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation of… well, if he had to put a name to it, contentment. Maybe even comfort.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Steve wakes with a start when sunlight starts streaming into the window, and buries his head in the pillow with a groan. Except… it isn’t a pillow. His face was buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck, arm tossed across his chest. Besides that they were, oh thank god, parallel, but it’s enough to send Steve jerking upright, running a hand through his hair as he tries to forget about what just happened.

 

The demon was in his bed. Sleeping. But -- but demons don’t sleep. _Do they?_

 

Beside him, Bucky lets out a quiet groan before his eyes snap open, that bright blue catching the sunlight and throwing it back into Steve’s face like a reflection on the water. “Hi, Stevie,” he mumbles. Then his head flops back into the pillow and he turns away.

 

Instead of closing his eyes again, Bucky just stares at the wall. He can’t shake the feeling that had settled over him in the night, lingering about him, hovering at the edges and making the world just the littlest bit brighter when he looked at Steve.

 

But that can’t happen, he reminds himself bitterly, and moves to sit up. He doesn’t spare a glance at the still panic-stricken Steve when he pushes himself to his feet.

 

In actual fact, Bucky can’t even face Steve at all right now. So, instead of turning around to smirk at whatever terrified facial expression the poor guy is pulling... he just gets out of there. Not by using the door, or even the window. He teleports directly outside and onto the sidewalk.

 

Bucky keeps on walking, past the crowds of early morning businessmen, down through subways, onto train after train. He ignores the women in high heels speeding around him, teenagers talking loudly. All of the sounds blend into one big buzzing noise, as he travels around Brooklyn without looking back.

 

Eventually, he ends up on a park bench. The grassy fields are almost empty – aside from a handful of dog walkers. One thing that Bucky can do when he doesn’t want to be noticed, is blend in. He’s not exactly invisible as such... but, he can make himself go unnoticed to passing by humans, too busy to look. It’s like a cloaking device, but if he moved too fast or made too much noise, he’d be noticed once more.

 

After about an hour of contemplating what to do with himself, Bucky comes to a decision he never thought he’d make again -- to return to hell. “You made this promise,” Bucky whispers, as he gets up slowly. “You don’t talk to them, you don’t feel for then. Not after –” he stops, feeling a metaphoric pain that he doesn’t want to bear. “Never again.” He finalises simply.

 

Every single step seems to weigh on him, and by the time he reaches the gate -- hilariously enough, hidden in the fence of a prison -- he has to physically drag himself through it. The first thing he feels is the heat, sparks of it kicking up at him with every footfall. Then, the oppressing, crushing darkness. Within moments he’s blinking rapidly, trying to get used to it. Then a hand closes on his shoulder and forces him a couple steps back.

 

“Well, look who decided to show his ugly mug,” hisses the demon on guard duty with a jeering laugh. “Sorry, James. I can’t let you pass.”

 

Bucky actually flinches at his given name. It sounds so foreign, especially coming out of a demon’s mouth. It almost reminded him of that time, all those years ago, when he’d made the deal… He’d said his name like he owned it.

 

Bucky shakes himself, trying to focus. “I’m sorry, what? Why can’t I pass?”

 

“Something about you is off,” shrugged the watchdog. “Human, almost. And you know how strict they’re being these days -- until something cataclysmic happens, we’re on lockdown. Can’t have any souls breaking out, and… well, you do have a record.”

 

Not wanting to be physically forced out – he’s been there, and it wasn’t nice – Bucky turns his back on the guard. He leaves with mixed feelings, wondering whether or not this was a good thing or a burden. Maybe this was some strange way of getting a second chance?

 

He returns to earth quickly and quietly, silently appreciating the calming warmth that the place gives off. He teleports himself back into Brooklyn, wanting to be back where he’d started. It felt right somehow.

 

Bucky sighs, beginning to wander the streets as if he was any other guy on his way home from the store. Whilst he’s walking, Bucky hears a tiny voice say something to him close by.

 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks down.

 

There’s a girl with pigtails in her hair, standing and holding her mother’s hand whilst she talks to another woman. Bucky doesn’t quite know how to react... it’s one thing not really communicating with adults for years on end, but he hasn’t properly spoken to a kid in decades.

 

“It’s mean to ignore someone, and my mom says you don’t stare!” She snaps.

 

Bucky laughs. “Sorry,” he says.

 

“Well, anyways!” She continues on. “I just wanted to say that I like your shirt!” The kid smiles a gap toothed grin.

“Well, thanks. Your shirt is really nice too!” Bucky actually finds himself smiling in sync with the child.

 

A few minutes later her Mom walks away, but the girl waves at him. The mother most likely didn’t even think twice about her daughter having a conversation with a seemingly harmless passerby like that – I mean sure, stranger danger and all, but Bucky doesn’t exactly look all that threatening when he’s dressed in his modern, human clothes.

 

Very quietly, the girl sneaks back over to him. “Here,” she says softly, reaching out and pressing a candy into his hands. “My mom said I could only have one today, but...” She shrugs, delicate and nonchalant at the same time, as only a child can manage. “You need it more.” She smiles up at him sweetly, and then flounces off after her mother. Bucky is left speechless in her wake.

 

He shakes his head, turning on his heel and keeping on, but unwrapping the candy as he went. He just about dies again when it hits his tongue, the sweetness more than he ever expected.

 

Then a flood of voices reaches him, one of them familiar — Steve, always Steve, calling out to someone else. “Is that the best you can do?”

 

He frowns at first, so startled upon hearing them that he stops dead in his tracks, centre of the sidewalk.

 

Well, until... “hey, asshole! Keep moving!” Oh, humans. So lovely.

 

Bucky refrains from doing the rude citizen any harm, and instead simply flips him off behind his back after the guy shoves past him anyway. That’s when Bucky hears it again, but this time there’s pain in the voice.

 

“I could do this all day!”

 

Using whatever newfound power he’s clearly somehow managed to posses, Bucky takes himself to the place he can feel Steve is at. He arrives close enough so that he can hear the commotion, and hurriedly jogs down the alleyway that it’s coming from.

 

“Hey!” Bucky yells, his gaze immediately magnetised to whomever is hurting Rogers.

 

The male turns, a horrible grin on his face. “Wanna join?” He asks.

 

“Don’t mind if I do!” Bucky teleports himself so that he’s now behind the guy.

 

“Wait, wha –” the man mumbles in disbelief, feeling someone tap him on the shoulder.

 

When he turns around, Bucky makes his eyes turn black. “Boo,” he smirks.

 

Naturally, the guy goes tearing down the alleyway screeching at the top of his lungs that he’s seen ‘the work of Satan himself!’ Leaving said work standing there chuckling, wearing a rather satisfied smile.

 

He then turns to Steve, who’s sitting upon the ground. His face is cut up and bloodied, his previously crisp, white shirt now splattered crimson. Bucky offers him a hand, and for once the boy isn’t foolish enough to not take it.

 

“Where did you go earlier?” Steve winces, falling against Bucky without any choice.

 

“Nowhere special,” Bucky replies, letting out a sigh as he takes the brunt of Steve’s weight. “Just some errands I had to run.” That’s a terrible lie, of course, but at the same time really not. But he really isn’t in the mood for explaining the politics of Hell to Steve. In fact, he’s not even sure Steve would care. “What were you doing back there?”

 

“If you must know, I was defending a woman. Then it escalated, and we ended up fighting in there. And, I really had him on the ropes before you marched in!” Steve raises his voice, but the pain that seems through him causes his body to weaken,

 

Bucky rolls his eyes, muttering something inaudible. He then picks Steve up bridal style, and tells him to “hold on tight.”

 

Before he can actually ask why, the pair of them are back in Steve’s bedroom. “What. The... heck?!” The male squeaks.

 

Bucky lies him down on the bed, mentally assessing his injuries. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital.” He muses aloud.

 

But, Steve begins to dramatically shake his head. “I’ll be fine, you can go now... thanks, and stuff.” He answers.

 

“Do you want a cloth?”

 

“No.”

 

“Some aspirin?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“How about some –”

 

_“Bucky!”_

 

The demon smiles, but it isn’t evil or even particularly devious... it’s a smile that tells of happiness.

 

Steve looks utterly bewildered at the slight act of humanity coming from the creature before him. “What?” He asks.

 

“You called me Bucky.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

_“You called me Bucky.”_

 

A look of realisation and regret settles upon Steve’s face. “Yeah, Well, I didn’t mean to. Alright?” He snaps.

 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, and he just shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he teases gently. “Of course you mean it. You don’t ever seem to really say things you don’t mean. That’s something I like about you.”

 

Steve grimaces slightly. “Don’t say that,” he murmurs.

 

“Say what?”

 

“That,” Steve repeats. “That you like me.”

 

Bucky pouts, teleporting himself so that he’s on the left side of the bed now. “That hurts me, Stevie.”

 

“You’re freaking me out again,” he sighs, his head hitting the pillow.

 

Raising one eyebrow, Bucky chooses to not play into his fear right now. Instead, he takes himself to the kitchen and retrieves some wet cloths. The things he does for this human, honestly.

 

“Why are you still here anyways?” Steve mumbles sleepily, when Bucky returns to clean up his face. “Is it a rule to taunt me now we have spoken together?” He continues to ramble on.

 

Ignoring each question, Bucky doesn’t pause until he’s finished carefully fixing up Steve’s injuries. “There we go,” he says quietly to himself.

 

“That’s... Thanks,” Steve slurs a little, before completely falling asleep.

 

A smile plays at the corner of Bucky’s mouth again, as he finds himself feeling that same sensation similar to that of ‘butterflies’ again. But, his smile soon switches around to be a frown, as he angrily throws the bloodied cloth to the floor.

 

He can’t.

 

Bucky avoids Steve’s bedside this time around, only entering the bedroom briefly, making sure that he was still healing properly and, more importantly, that the fever from the night before didn’t coming back. He forces himself to leave every time, regardless of how every check-up made it more and more difficult to do so.

 

Until, one time, Steve’s eyes are open and he’s strangely lucid as he watches Bucky, not in the lease put off by his presence.

 

“Why are you doing this, really?” Steve asks, rolling over onto his side to face him.

 

Bucky ponders around the question for a little while, not exactly knowing the answer himself really. “Like I said,” he begins, staring out the window. “I heard you cursing god... but, also sensed something contradicting. Didn’t know you were the priest’s kid.” He smirks, his eyes dark.

 

“I’m not.” Steve huffs, as of offended. “They took me in when I was a kid, it wasn’t as if I could just bad mouth god at every _‘family’_ dinner!” He blurts out, arms still folded tightly across his chest.

 

Bucky sees the look of horror on the holy man’s face when he realises what he’s said. “I get it.” He shrugs, truly having an understanding of the boy’s struggle.

 

Steve turns away with a sniff. “No you don’t,” he huffs. “You’re a demon. That’s your bread and butter, isn’t it?”

 

Bucky tilts his head slightly, watching Steve closely. “I was human once, you know.”

 

“Yeah? Well, I’m human now.” Steve grumbles.

 

A single eyebrow raises on Bucky’s forehead. “You’re very grumpy,” he mutters, deciding to drop the subject all together.

 

“You’re pestering me,” is the excuse to follow.

 

Bucky sighs, pacing the room for a few moments before thinking of a reply. But, as he turns back of course Rogers is asleep again. “Such a child,” the demon mutters to himself, but can’t refrain from going over to tuck him in a little bit better.

 

He sits beside the bed afterwards, weighing out the pros and cons here. “I guess a friend won’t hurt,” Bucky whispers, turning to the sleeping person beside him.

 

So this time, instead of leaving and settling on the couch, Bucky stays perched on the edge of the bed. The next time Steve wakes up, he’s almost ready for the question.

 

“Where are you from, then?” Steve asks, blinking sleeping in the darkness. “When you were human.”

 

“Brooklyn.”

 

“Oh.” Steve sits up slightly. “How did you—?”

 

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bucky knows it’s a lie, and he can’t shake the feeling that Steve can tell, too. But Bucky could see the fear whenever Steve looked at him — and that was without him knowing about Bucky’s past.

 

Fear was something Bucky could handle. Hatred? Not so much.

 

Steve shifts his weight in the bed, becoming fidgety now that he’s sitting up. He’s so intrigued towards this creature now, but also doesn’t want to push it and get himself killed right there and then.

 

“Just... Don’t.” Bucky’s words are cold.

 

“But, I was just wondering why you sold your –”

 

Steve’s words become forced back inside of him, when the sound of the nearby glass shattering into hundreds and thousands of pieces engulfs him in a blanket of fear. “Why’d you do that?!” He yells, hugging his knees to his chest when he looks over at the demon once more.

 

“I didn’t – it wasn’t on purpose.” Bucky’s voice is hushed, as he observes the damage he’s done.

 

His eyes turn dark again, and he snaps his fingers to remove the mess. Before Steve can ask yet another question, Bucky disappears from the bedroom.

 

Steve shakily gets to his feet, flipping on the light switch before sweeping through the house. “Bucky?”

 

Silence. All the rooms are empty.

 

With a sigh, Steve returns to his room, pausing to examine the glass sitting on his dresser, presumably the one that had shattered. It was almost entirely intact, utterly perfect… except for one jagged gap. Weird. Steve sets the glass back down, then moves to settle into bed -- and then his foot sinks down onto a shard of glass, slicing skin.

 

Steve swears under his breath as he tries to make it to the bed, and to his surprise arms wrap around him, catching him before he falls and easing him onto the floor. He looks up to see an unreadable expression on Bucky’s face. “You’re back,” he says softly.

 

“Just shut up and let me help,” Bucky says, forcing the words out through his teeth. He hadn’t planned on coming back. He hadn’t wanted to come back. But something had pulled him back here when Steve injured himself, much the same way he’d been drawn to that asshole beating him up. It’s this magnetic pole, something obviously inescapable… and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.

 

“Help?” Steve’s startled voice breaks through Bucky’s thoughts. “You said you can’t heal anything.”

 

“I can’t,” Bucky agrees with a sigh. He snaps his fingers, summoning various things into the bedroom. “But I can get that glass out, okay? I was a soldier, once, and I still remember the basics.” He lifts Steve’s foot, inspecting it.

 

“You were a soldier?” Steve lets out a hiss of pain when the piece of glass moves, and Bucky’s eyes jump to his face.

 

“For a time.”

 

“When you were human, you mean. Not --”

 

“As a demon, too. I spent a long time in the ranks of Hell.” Bucky doesn’t even know why he’s telling him this. Like the kid would ever be understand what it was like. “Believe it or not, Hell was more pleasant than the war.”

 

“What war?”

 

“All of them. With demons, you expect it, but it would drive you crazy to know what humans are capable of.” Bucky flicks open a lighter that had come from a couple houses over and holds a pair of tweezers into the flame. “This isn’t so bad. It’s not in deep, so you won’t even need stitches. It’s just going to suck to get it out.”

 

Steve nods, gritting his teeth. “Just do it.”

 

“Count of three, okay?” Bucky tries not to look at Steve’s face. “One… two...” On “three,” the piece of glass slides out cleanly, miraculously still in one piece. Bucky lets out the breath he’d been holding, as he sprays the wound with disinfectant and bandages up Steve’s foot. The nervousness that had settled over him since seeing Steve injured finally starts to dissipate when he leans down, looping his arms under Steve’s, and lifts him up.

 

“Must be nice, not being human and never having to worry about this crap,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“You’re an idiot.” Bucky’s eyebrow twitches upward, and he settles Steve on the bed with a sigh. “But I like you anyway.” He starts to pull back, but Steve’s arms lock around his neck.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I said you’re stupid,” Bucky laughs, reaching up and untangling Steve’s hands, settling him back onto the pillows.

 

“Well… That’s alright, then.” Steve actually pouts when Bucky lets go of his hands, and another little twinge of feeling shoots through his chest.

 

And, just like last time, Bucky realizes that he can’t. He just… simply… cannot do this. Not again. He swallows hard, brushing the hair away from Steve’s face. “Just try not to kill yourself next time,” he says quietly, turning away.

 

“Bucky? Where are you going?”

 

He hesitates, barely daring a glance over his shoulder. “Out.” And with that, he vanishes.

 

Again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The second that the soles of Bucky’s boots hit the sidewalk, he has an uneasy feeling. But, before he can figure it out he’s grabbed and taken somewhere else. They turn up in a dark field, two other demons restraining him by each arm, not giving him a chance to fight back.

 

But, he doesn’t really want to fight back.

 

“Bucky? Did I, uh, did I offend you?” Steve’s voice echoes around his brain, like a forgotten whisper.

 

He tugs away from one of the demons, throwing a punch towards his face. But, Bucky can’t win this fight... more and more of the cruel creatures start to appear, pinning him down to the floor and laughing with joy upon doing so. Bucky can taste the dirt in his mouth, a stale reminder of what war once was.

 

“What do you want from me?” He hisses, his eyes deep black.

 

Bucky feels a pair of searing hot handcuffs being slapped carelessly onto his wrists. “The King don’t want you going soft on us,” one jeers. “You were once one of our best!” Another exclaims angrily.

 

“Yeah? Well, I thought I wasn’t welcome back in hell.” He snaps bitterly, as they yank him roughly to his feet.

 

The demon who’s holding him by the collar grins. “You ain’t,” he chuckles. “And, that’s why you’re gonna pay.”

 

Bucky’s eyes turn blue again, clouded over with fear. The last time he was tortured in Hell... he did horrible things. He endured it for so long, he eventually switched sides and bit the bullet – became a soldier for hell, just like what he did for the Nazis.

 

“I won’t do it again!” Bucky yells as loud as he can, kicking his feet around in the mud and not stopping the whole short journey to the gate.

 

He writhes in their painful grip, trying to work off the spellbinding handcuffs. But, he knows it won’t work. Bucky wishes he had his hands over his ears when they enter, as he can hear the screeches of tortured souls and practically feel the insanity surround him like a whirlwind. His face becomes a burning pool of sweat as he’s physically dragged through the blood spattered corridors.

 

At first, they throw him straight into a cell. They promise to be back, and Bucky doesn’t doubt it. He leans up against the wall, staring into the never ending darkness. Bucky shuts his eyes tight... and thinks of Steve.

 

~

  
Steve wakes up the next morning, shivering slightly and so tangled up in the blankets he almost can’t move. It takes him a long moment to realize what’s missing, and the thought alone is enough to send him rocketing out of bed and then down to to the church after getting ready for work.

 

It goes okay, more or less. The old building is still cold, the people are still cold, and the priest, well…

 

“Father, I, um, I have a question,” Steve says timidly, pausing in the doorway of the office.

 

“About what?” The man doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading, but his eyes stop moving on the page.

 

“Demons.” Steve flinches when he hears the book snap closed and the man who raised him turns in his chair to face him. “Can they be -- nice?”

 

“Nice?” The old man cracks a smile bordering on mocking. “They’re demons, Steve. They can’t be anything but evil.”

 

“Yes, but, say one was,” Steve continues, feeling a bit desperate.

 

“Forget about it.” The priest shakes his head, laughing so hard that when he surfaced and caught his breath, tears glitter in his eyes. “If it’s being nice to you, it’s tricking you. Or you’ve given it something it wants, and it’s paying you back. But that always goes wrong in the end.”

 

Steve swallows hard, trying to work around a lump in his throat. He couldn’t remember promising Bucky anything. “I see.”

 

The priest considers Steve for a moment. “Is there something,” he says carefully, “that you need to confess?”

 

“No.” Steve says, a little too quickly. “I was just curious. Thank you for the insight.”

 

Somehow Steve manages to wait until he turns back around before tearing down the hallway and out of the church.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

It’s been two days. Two _Earth_ days that is, since Bucky went ‘missing.’ He sits curled up in his cell, his demonic form emotionally drained. Cuts and bruises scatter across his complexion, only to disappear and be replaced with new ones after mere hours. The sounds of hell all merge into one big nightmare of a scream. He wants to go back to Earth. Back to Steve.

 

There’s a dreadful metallic thud against the steel door seconds later, causing him to flinch. He doesn’t look up though. “Ready to join us yet? We got a few fresh ones to ease into their new life,” one of the demons snarls, their cruel chuckle traveling through the air.

 

“Piss off.”

 

“Very well, I’ll fetch your friends then.” He growls.

 

Bucky sits up, and mentally prepares himself for some more taunting. He sighs heavily, running a hand through his matted hair. He doesn’t even want to think about what’s gotten stuck in it, and silently craves a shower.

 

His clothes are torn apart, his feet are bare. He looks at his blackened hands, squinting through the darkness that he almost become accustomed to, so that he can see the fading burn marks.

 

The door to his cell scratches painfully against the paving stones on the floor, and his eyes turn black with a shudder.

 

“Time for some more quality entertainment hour!” The demon grabs Bucky’s cuffed hands, dragging him up and onto his feet.

 

Bucky doesn’t fight it this time, and the creature hisses out a laugh. “Are you really that broken already?” He jeers.

 

When Bucky doesn’t reply straight away, the demon thrashes his fist into Bucky’s mouth. “Huh?! Not gonna hit back?”

 

Looking up at him, Bucky spits out crimson onto the floor. “I could do this all day,” he utters, a bloodied smile painted over his face. He swears he’s heard those words before... inside of his head, like an old memory.

 

~

  
Steve sits back in his chair, surveying the massive pile of old library books. They are very old, and very dusty, and if he’s honest with himself just thinking about opening them makes him cough, but it’s been a week.

 

It’s been a week, and Bucky still hasn’t turned up.. After three days of his company, nonstop except for when he was on the church grounds, and even if that was annoying, he’d gotten used to it, and the way Bucky made him feel just a little less like he was one step away from dying. Maybe that’s just how it is with demons, but Steve still can’t quite believe that underneath all that, Bucky was just something evil, trying to use him.

 

Steve knew a little bit about the canon exorcists, and there had always been a corner of the church library that was filled with old journals. He’d always ignored them because of the dust. But here he was. Reading. About Hell.

 

The descriptions in themselves are horrifying: hot, fiery prison doesn’t even begin to describe the place. It twists through time and space, and just being there is enough to drive you crazy, and the demons, of course, do their best to push you to the edge.

 

Steve shudders and turns the page. And pauses.

  
One year on Earth is, at best estimate, forty years in Hell.

 

Did that mean that, even if it was just a year ago, he would have gone through forty years of suffering after he died?

 

Steve swallows hard, blinking back the moisture welling in his eyes. He has no idea why that knowledge affected him so much -- surely, Bucky wouldn’t have sold his soul unless it had been worth it. Right?

 

He slams the book shut and pushes it away, then packs up to go back home. He really has no business caring about what Bucky went through to become what he is. Sure, the demon had helped him out. More or less non-stop since he’d turned up in Steve’s room.

 

He shook his head, trying to force the priest’s words out of his head. The old man had probably never met a demon in his life. The only thing Bucky had ever asked him to do was try not to kill himself.

 

Steve shuts the gate behind him, turning down the street to make his way home. Then he freezes in his tracks when the realization suddenly occurs to him. Maybe… just maybe, Bucky needed just as much help as he did himself. Maybe it’s that fact, more than anything else, that keeps bringing him back to Steve’s side.

 

Steve shakes his head, forcing himself to move on.

 

What’s a soul worth these days, anyway?

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Bucky isn’t sure on exactly how many years he’s been here, but he knows that it’s enough to feel completely empty again. A part of him longs to go back, find Steve, help him. But, another part decides that he’s most likely better off without a terrifying creature beside him anyway.

 

He sighs, shoving his hands angrily into his trouser pockets. That’s when a small rustle catches his attention, and he grips the plastic object tightly. Bucky’s eyebrows twist and then in a confused manner, until he reveals what exactly it is. The candy wrapper.

 

A few memories come flooding back to him like a mental tsunami, and he gets to his feet with a newfound sense of inner strength. His ears pick up footsteps outside the door, and he darts to the small gap in the door that the demons use to speak into and taunt him quite often.

 

“Hey!” He whispers.

 

The footsteps draw to an almost immediate halt.

 

“Bucky?”

 

He freezes, having almost forgotten what it felt like to hear someone refer to him like a friend. At first, he can’t quite pinpoint who the voice belongs to. But, when the person steps closer – yes, it’s a tortured soul, and not a demon – he knows.

 

“Henderson... is that really you?” Bucky’s blackened fingers grip the bars against the tiny window, his knuckles going tense.

 

The eyes that stare back at him are a dreadful reminder of the horrors they had both faced back in 1940. “In the flesh... well, sorta,” he chuckles.

 

“How’d you get down here? You were one of the squadron’s best! We were their sharp shooters, oh go– did they catch you too?” His eyes dart from left to right, each thought running so fast around his mind that it physically hurt.

 

The man before him smiled a sad sort of smile. “Guess I made too many bad choices before, during, and after. Lived five years after it ended, Buck.”

 

“You did?” The man nods.

 

“So you...” Bucky swallows hard, and averts his gaze to the wall behind him. “You heard about what I did?” His voice becomes reduced to a whisper. An ashamed, timid sound.

 

“Hey,” the brisk tone directs Bucky’s attention back to making eye contact again. “I know that they tortured you, experimented on you... I don’t know what they threatened, but I always knew you’d never agree unless it was something terrible.”

 

“They used him.” Bucky doesn’t say the name, nor elaborate. “And, in the end it got us both murdered.”

 

“You’re a better man than he ever was – Jude would’ve cracked under their pressure, without any threat against his loved ones needed. He was always finding excuses not to travel front lines with us, and that’s probably half the reason you couldn’t bear have him switch with you. He could never endure what you did.”

 

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but he physically can’t stomach it. Nobody has ever put his story into perspective like that, nobody – including the hundreds of tabloids that published his story – has ever asked for his side. All they saw was that he killed people for the nazis, and left it at that.

 

“Do you really think I might’ve been allowed,” he stops for a moment, his eyes scanning around outside. “Up there?” Barely even audible, Bucky points upwards as his eyes gaze slightly longingly for a moment.

 

The man laughs. “Of course. Your story was so twisted towards ‘nazi experiment gone wrong’, because that was a bigger seller than ‘brave soldier who saved his boyfriend, survives indescribable pain and training, only to meet his end in an unfair way without being given a chance’ who wants to read that?”

 

“You know,” Bucky smirks slightly. “Jude always did say that you had a crush on me,” he chuckles.

 

“Well, what can I say... You’re not like all the others.” The metallic thunk of a lock snapping causes Bucky to become startled.

 

The door groans open, leaving nothing blocking his pathway but the old soul of his fellow soldier. “Are you gonna come too?” Bucky whispers.

 

Shaking his head, Henderson steps aside. “Someone’s gotta distract ‘em.” He grins, and turns on his heel before Bucky can even think about stopping him. “Just so you know, Buck -- I forgive you.” He shouts the words over his shoulder, and they just barely reach him, like the hall was trying to consume the sound.

 

It isn’t until he’s rounded that corner that it really hits him: being a soldier, fighting that war, that was one thing. Being surrounded by the closest human thing to Hell, slogging through it knee-deep with men who would die for you, for whom you would die, that was one thing.

 

Falling in love on the battlefield was another. He and Jude had kept it air-fucking-tight, never breathed a word of it to anyone. And there were some men in the company who would have started shit if they were obvious about it… And it would have ended in no less than a discharge. Sometimes it went as far as a court-martial. Or a stint in prison.

 

Bucky shakes his head, trying to think through the haze. The stench of the place and the echoing sound of screams just seemed to intensify, to make rational thought more difficult. But eventually, realization struck.

 

Henderson hadn’t had the slightest idea of what Bucky had been doing during the war. And it’s not like he could have found out after the fact -- Jude had died in the war, same as Bucky. Bucky had been the one to sell his soul.

 

_How the hell did Henderson find out?_

 

Bucky shook his head, tried to take in a deep breath and failed utterly. He sank against the blistering stone wall for a moment, working his way through a coughing fit. Which was odd. He gave himself a little shake, trying desperately to get a grip on himself. It was almost hard to tell that this was real; it wasn’t nearly as bad as the nightmares had been these past… well, however long it had been.

 

Bucky turned one final corner, and the relief he felt when he saw that door was fucking tangible. Any onlooker probably could see it floating off of him in waves like so much steam -- except that there was no one around. Henderson apparently was making enough of a fuss to have drawn the guards away from their stations.

 

That didn’t seem right. He hadn’t run into any guards. Bucky ground to a halt, staring at the doorway. He could almost feel cool, clean air, he could almost hear… someone’s voice. Someone was waiting for him out there, he was just fuzzy on the details.

 

Bucky took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and made a break for it anyway. The second the cool night hit his skin, he could breathe easy again. But he sank to his knees into the cool earth, wheezing a little, too distracted by the pulse drumming in his ears to hear the footsteps behind him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_... But he sank to his knees into the cool earth, wheezing a little, too distracted by the pulse drumming in his ears to hear the footsteps behind him._

 

“That’s odd,” said a disturbingly familiar voice, and a boot nudged Bucky’s thigh, sudden blinding pressure on a muscle that had been run through with a knife mere hours ago. Or maybe months. Either way, the pain of it was enough for Bucky to thrash a little in an attempt to roll himself onto his back, but he didn’t quite make it. But he did manage to prop himself on an arm, albeit barely, and look up.

 

And what he saw made a wave of nausea sweep over him. Before he knew it he’d moved onto his hands and knees, retching into the grass.

  
  
The owner of the voice clicked its tongue, and then continued: “I honestly expected you wouldn’t be able to leave.”

 

“I’d honestly,” Bucky sucks in as much air as he can, before getting back into a sitting position. “Rather be anywhere, than in there with you.”

 

“Touching.” The voice sighs, looking down at his nails rather than into Bucky’s eyes full of exhaustion. “That’s actually really touching, Barnes.” The words -- hell, his surname, even -- hits him in the face like a brick wall.

 

As Bucky struggles to maintain a sitting position without collapsing back down again, fear starts to bubble inside of him. He’s unsure of whether he can just get up and go... or how he’s going to get out of this situation. He doesn’t want to look up, but is forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. “They dragged you down here to torture me, too, is that it?”

 

 _“‘They’?”_ The other man repeats, his voice is suddenly shrill and mocking, and when Bucky finally dares to look at his face, all he can see is an odd, malevolent glee glittering in his eyes. “The demons, you mean?” After a moment, he seems to realise Bucky is serious, and he tilts his head back and laughs. “Don’t tell me you don’t know. Oh, this is priceless.”

 

“Jude, cut the crap.” Bucky flinches at his ex-boyfriend’s name more than Jude does himself. He’s never wanted to face him, not even on the best of days, but this… Something isn’t right. “What happened to you?”

 

“I run this joint, Barnes.” Jude’s smile is all sharp teeth, not a trace of real joy behind it. “And all it took was you murdering me. But that’s not all, is it?” He grabs Bucky by the hair, hauling him to his feet and leaving him there to wobble. “You sold your fucking worthless, broken soul and I had to kill you. And we both wound up down here. Fancy that.”

 

What happens next and who he sees immediately drags the weight of fear and dread right off of his shoulders. “Bucky, go!” Henderson exits from the gate, his face and clothes even more bloodied than was usual.

 

Bucky forces himself forward with the last amounts of inner strength that he has, and turns. “Thank you,” Bucky barely manages to utter, before beginning to run as Henderson catches Jude by the shoulders, somehow managing to physically drag the King back through the gate.

 

But, what Bucky hears seconds before he teleports out of there is enough to practically break him in half. The all too familiar electrical fizzing of a demon knife – enough to kill a demon of highest power... let alone one, tortured soul.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ames (my amazing co-creator) is currently on a traveling adventure, and has no service. So, there won’t be an update until she can send me the next chapter. Sorry!! I hope you’re all loving this fic though!
> 
> Thanks for understanding :)

 

Steve grips his coat as tight as he can, whilst practically being swept down the church steps by the wind. He tries his best to fight against the harsh spatter of raindrops that dart against his skin, wondering why on Earth he brought an umbrella instead of his other coat that has a hood. But, weirdly enough this weather wasn’t forecast this morning.

 

He quickens his pace, and ducks undercover into a nearby alleyway for a little shelter. Maybe it’d be best if he waited here until the heavy rainstorm subsides. Standing there shivering, Steve silently wishes that a certain someone would just appear like he used to. Pester him, make fun of him... take him home.

 

“I wish you were here” he mumbles quietly.

 

~

 

Bucky doesn’t have anything remotely resembling a clue as to how he got back to Brooklyn. In fact, at first he isn’t even sure it _is_ Brooklyn. The sounds and smells are right — the torrential downpour is odd — but it feels like he’s looking at it through a haze. He wobbles uncertainly on his feet, trying to summon the energy to put one foot in front of the other. If everything that had just happened was just an illusion, well, Bucky had better face the music and get over with. The torture was starting to feel uninspired, monotonous even.

 

But then a familiar voice cuts through the sound of the storm. Alarmingly, Bucky can’t quite place it, but it’s enough to send adrenaline shooting through him, giving him strength enough to barrel down the alleyway. Whatever it was, it was important as hell. If possible, the rain started to fall harder, hitting his back and the pavement like a hail of bullets.

 

~

 

Whilst the watery droplets blur his vision, Steve jumps infright when he sees someone coming towards him down the alley. He doesn’t have time to react when the guy grabs him, but a feeling of calmness sweeps over him when the next thing he knows it that they’re both standing in the middle of his bedroom.

 

He knows that he’s safe again.

 

“Bu – Bucky?” Steve’s teeth chatter, as he blinks the rain out of his eyelashes to get a proper view of the back that’s turned to him.

 

He sees him begin to walk away, and without thinking grabs him by the wrist.

 

“You can’t leave!” Steve raises his voice. “Not now! Where even were you?!”

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

_“You can’t leave!” Steve raises his voice. “Not now! Where even were you?!”_

 

Bucky feels Steve’s trip tighten around his wrist the second he tries to tug away. It’s like all of the fear the priest’s assistant had once felt towards him has diminished, and he’s now longing to keep him by his side.

 

He knows that he feels the same way. There’s something about Steve that keeps on calling out to him, beckoning him to come back each time he goes away. James sighs heavily, finally tugging himself away from Steve’s hold.

 

“Don’t go. Please.”

 

Bucky doesn’t look up, he keeps his back to Steve. He can’t turn around. He can’t face him. Would he even believe what had happened? He can barely believe it himself. On the other hand, Steve deserves some kind of explanation. Barnes had promised to stay by his side and help him, but when things got tough he ran.

 

Sucking in a deep breath, Bucky looks up. His gaze lands upon the small human that is Steve Rogers, slunk back into the shadows, looking back at him with hope glistening in his eyes.

 

“I–“

 

The sound that was supposed to come next chokes off somewhere in the back of his throat, and then suddenly he simply. cannot. breathe. His shoulders start shaking and for a split second he panics, thinking that somehow, after everything Hell has thrown at him, after escaping and coming back and — _everything_ — it’s all caught up with him and the weight of it all might just kill him.

 

He crumples, like a paper bag, like fall leaves under heavy boots in the trenches, and his knees hit the apartment floor with a heavy crack, and just when he thinks he can’t contain it anymore, he takes a deep gasping gulp of air, forcing his eyes open again — but the world is blurry.

 

And his cheeks are wet. The front of his shirt is soaked.

 

Is he _crying?_

 

Steve stays frozen on the spot, looking down on Bucky. He has no idea how to react to the current situation at hand. Is Bucky crying? Is he _supposed_ to do that? Does this mean he’s dying?

 

He continues to observe the horrible sight, somewhat heartbreaking to watch. It’s as if all of the emotions Bucky could’ve felt over the years if he were still human, are all flowing out at once.

 

“Are – are you okay?” Rogers whispers.

 

He wants to kick himself for asking, because the answer to this question can be answered by simply taking a look at Barnes’ tear streaked cheeks, as he dares to look back up at Steve.

 

“Did y – you just ask me if I – I’m okay?” Bucky barely manages to choke out, but the sarcasm is still prominent even in between the sobs.

 

Steve nods, unable to talk. A wave of fear has washed over him again, but he isn’t quite sure why. The current vulnerability of James Barnes in this exact moment is causing him to question everything to do with religion that he’s supposed to believe in. The sadness painted over his face, the tears that are still rolling down his cheeks and landing on his apartment floor. Demons don’t cry... do they?

 

“Of course I’m not okay! I haven’t cried in... seventy years, Steven.” Bucky snaps, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket.

 

“Oh,” Steve squeaks.

 

He isn’t sure how to act. Should he comfort Bucky? Offer him a tissue... or a hand? Yes, a hand. Steve extends his arm, wanting to help him up. That’s a start.

 

Bucky stares at the hand, still blinking rapidly. It's only when he's managed to take in a full deep breath and Steve stops swimming hazily in front of him that he takes it, lets himself be hauled to his feet. He's surprisingly steady on them, despite it all, and that seems to hearten him.

 

Steve's skin is warm beneath Bucky's fingers, which doesn't exactly register at first, but when it does it's like Bucky has stepped beyond the veil, like the coldness of the world has been stripped away. People are warm and open and he feels like his heart is going to burst in his chest, or maybe his chest is going to burst because it can't contain his heart.

 

Either way, Bucky does not let go. He instead barrels forward, just a little, his arm clapping around Steve's shoulder and pulling him close, and the iron vice of it and Bucky's grip on his wrist is all that keeps Steve from falling backwards. When Steve is steady on his feet, Bucky's other arm slips around the small of his back and pulls him bare, irresistible centimeters closer. For a moment the world freezes. Steve is oblivious to the rain pattering against the pavement outside his window, to the way the lights seem to flicker, to the fact that Bucky feels like an actual human being against him, rather than the cold steel he had been made of before.

 

Hesitantly, and very, very slowly, Steve gets a hold of himself and starts to bring his arms up -- but then Bucky is gone, turning away with a sniff, and definitely not looking at him. After an awkward moment frozen in place, Steve folds his arm across his chest instead.

 

Surely this wasn't normal. And yet…

 

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice is soft. It’s comforting, and warm. “I don’t care if you’re what you are... I want to help you.” His voice becomes reduced to a whisper, almost as if he’s keeping quiet so that God himself won’t hear.

 

When Barnes doesn’t answer, Steve continues. “Why don’t you go shower, I can lend you some clothes... wait, or you can do that drying yourself thing again.” He clears his throat, beginning to ramble. “Uh, and I’ll make you some cocoa?” He suggests, unsure on whether or not he’s helping.

 

A small chuckle leaves Bucky’s lips. He turns back around again, face still wet with tears, and his clothes still sodden from the rain and various other mess that came from his journey back up.

 

“I can’t,” he mumbles.

 

Steve looks confused. “I can’t use my powers,” Bucky admits.

 

“Oh?” Rogers is still bewildered – a few months ago and he would’ve run away screaming from this kind of conversation, with this very person. “Well, you’re welcome to borrow my amenities,” Steve offers.

 

Barnes manages to laugh yet again. He lets Steve lead him into the bedroom, and waits for him to try and find something that might fit. Bucky gets handed the clothes and a towel, and pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

 

“Don’t you want to dry off first?” The thought suddenly pops into his head, before walking inside.

 

He turns to Steve, who still has little droplets of rain clutching to the strands of dirty blonde. The boy shakes his head.

 

“No. I’ll wait for you,” he insists, a tiny smile emerging.

 

Bucky steps inside of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He hasn’t been inside of one for... years. I mean, it’s not like he’s ever had the reason to – demons don’t get dirty in the way that humans do.

 

He takes a few minutes to look around, glancing at different things. Everything looks so shiny, like it’s in a showroom.

 

Bucky pulls off his shirt in one swift action, but grimaces at the aches it causes. He can feel each small wound that was inflicted upon him in hell, still stinging as if mere hours old. He sighs through clenched teeth, looking down and observing the noticeable marks that are still there. They shouldn’t be this visible still. They shouldn’t _still_ hurt.

 

He shrugs it off, and steps inside of the walk in shower. Barnes isn’t exactly sure how to work this thing... maybe he should’ve asked Steve first. But, it can’t be too complicated, can it? After turning a few switch like pieces of metal, Bucky realises that maybe indeed it is extremely complicated.

 

Yelping from the surprise that is a burst of freezing cold water raining down on him, Barnes leaps backwards, only to crash into the glass screen behind him. When he moves forwards again, the whole damn shower falls down upon him.

 

Steve hears Bucky’s panicked yells, and darts into the bathroom without a second thought. He bursts in through the door, greeted by his own damn shower pretty much attacking Bucky. Stopping himself from chuckling at the sight, he hurries over to grab it and switch it off.

 

“It needs replacing – you’re not supposed to...” Steve trails off, realising that Bucky is no longer wearing a shirt, and they’re extremely close together right now. “Um, don’t touch it.” He mutters, tearing his gaze away and fixing the shower for him.

 

As he starts to walk away, he hears Bucky thanking him. Using this as an excuse to turn back and smile, Rogers feels an uneasy wave settle over him when he notices some more complex details over Bucky’s bare torso... an array of scars. A collection of fresh cuts too – presumably from Hell? But, surely they’d have healed by now, given his true form and all.

 

Shaking it out of his mind, Steve continues to await the opportunity for the bathroom to become free. The pair share silent glances when Barnes exits around half an hour later, muttering something about how he tried to be quick and how he hopes that he didn’t use up all of the hot water.

 

By this point, Steve had already wrapped himself in some towels to try and dry off anyway. He has a quick shower – thankfully, there is still hot water – and, gets dressed into his pyjamas.

 

As he walks out of the bathroom, Rogers settles his gaze upon Bucky. He’s curled up on Steve’s bed, looking more vulnerable than ever before. It’s a strange sight to lay eyes upon, considering how terrified Steve was of James in this very room... just months before.

 

Taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed, Steve plucks up the courage to talk about what had happened earlier on. “What do you think happened earlier?” He mumbles, afraid to talk any louder.

 

He turns, looking into Bucky’s eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmurs sleepily.

 

“That’s fine too.” Steve begins. “If, uh... if I’ve cried, I wanna sleep too, you know?” He says, but mentally kicks himself for revealing something personal.

 

But, Rogers becomes unsure if Bucky was even listening to him in the first place since his eyes are now closed. “Bucky?” He whispers, but no response comes his way.

 

He’s already fast asleep. _Is that normal?_

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

Steve could’ve sworn there was a knock at the door, or was it all in his dream? Something had woken him up... and, there’s the same noise again. As he comes to his senses properly, Steve determines that there is indeed somebody knocking – very persistently, for that matter. He tumbles out of bed, actually struggling to free his hand from Bucky’s grip.

 

As he gets to his feet, Rogers realises a handful of things at once. It’s daylight, which means it must be morning... which means he’s late for work. How late? He doesn’t really want to know. As he hurries to the door and peeks through the peep hole, Steve mentally curses himself out.

 

“Jennifer, uh.. what’re you doing here?” Steve asks, trying to make himself sound tired.

 

“Steven, Father sent me. You didn’t turn up to work and it’s been two hours! I was worried, are you alright?” The woman at the door is Steve’s foster mother. In all fairness, she’s the nicest member of the family and has never been as horrid towards him as her three children or the Father himself.

 

Knowing that he’s going to have to lie through this one, Steve quickly makes himself cough. Weirdly enough, he does feel a little... off, this morning. “Steven? Open the door, I’ll help you for the day!” That backfired.

 

“No, I’ll be alright! I’ll be back to work by next Monday!” He says, noting that today is Wednesday and he doesn’t want Bucky escaping anytime soon.

 

She tries the door handle, but thankfully it’s locked. “Jen, please just go!” Steve tries not to snap, and adds a fake groan for good measure.

 

“Are you sure? Do you need anything?”

 

“No! Thank you!” He adds.

 

The woman continues to talk, but Steve isn’t listening. He can hear a groaning noise coming from his bedroom, which means that Bucky must be waking up.

 

“Okay, I’m going back to bed now!” Rogers yells, hoping she will get the message and leave – before finding out the fact that there’s a man in his apartment.

 

Thankfully, her footsteps begin to fade down the hallway on the other side of the door. She mumbles something to herself as she leaves – most likely about how ungrateful he is, or something along those lines. He sighs from the relief, and wanders back towards the bedroom to see Bucky.

 

By the time he reaches the room he’s vaguely aware that something is different. The usual chill and heaviness that came with being out in the rain had faded, and he feels remarkably… fine. Healthy, even. And that’s almost as suspicious as the fact Bucky is still sleeping. Or pretending to sleep. Or…

 

“Bucky?” Steve watches as the demon flops onto his back again, peeking up at him before throwing his arm over his eyes. “You okay?”

 

“I’ve been better,” Bucky says, forcing himself up. He is watching Steve avidly now, all traces of exhaustion gone, save the dark shadows under his eyes. “But nevermind me. You look good -- that is, I mean, you seem to be doing better.” He opens his mouth to say something else, and then promptly closes it before he makes it worse.

 

Bucky is almost painfully aware that they’d slept in the same bed. He clears his throat and is up on his feet in a moment, running both his hands through his hair before stretching. His fingers almost brush the ceiling when he does so, and when he notices Steve staring he forces himself to look away.

 

“James.” That makes Bucky look up sharply, his eyes widen, and Steve hastens to correct himself. “Sorry, Buck.” That makes his eyes go wider. “I mean -- you seem -- is it normal for demons to sleep so much?”

 

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. Nor is --”

 

“Healing me?”

 

“... Right.” His gaze settles on the floor somewhere in front of Steve’s feet, and is almost grateful when Steve speaks up again.

 

“I was thinking about that,” he says. “You know, it doesn’t exactly seem like something a demon would be able to do.”

 

Bucky’s gaze darts up to his face. “And what exactly does it seem like?”

 

“...Well, it sounds like something an angel would do.”

 

That’s almost too much. Bucky can’t help the peals of laughter that escape him, and before he knows it he’s buckled over, holding his stomach, feeling more at ease than he has been in… almost a century. He doesn’t even care when he wobbles, toppling over and landing flat on his ass. “That’s impossible, Rogers. You realize that?” The words come out as a gasp, but he doesn’t care.

 

“Well, yeah.” He hurries forward, leaning down to offer Bucky his arm. “But it’s just odd. Isn’t it?” He winces when Bucky reaches up and his hold tightens; it quickly becomes clear that this was a mistake. Rather than succeeding in hauling Bucky to his feet, Steve overcompensates and ends up slamming forward, crouching over Bucky. Not as odd as this, he thinks to himself.

 

But before he can open his mouth to start stuttering an apology, he notices the way Bucky is looking at him.

 

The concern is gone. Well, the concern isn’t actually entirely gone, but it’s covered up with something else; something Steve only fully realizes when he catches himself staring at Bucky’s mouth. A vulnerability that matched only the look Bucky had had on his face when he’d randomly appeared, fresh from Hell.

 

“I --”

 

“Steve, if you’re going to apologize, you just need to stop.”

 

“But --”

 

“Seriously.”

 

Steve stutters into silence, and before he can stop himself he’s leaning forward; his knee hits the floor and his hands settle on Bucky’s shoulders to brace himself, but he isn’t exactly sure what he’s bracing himself for.

 

Until Bucky’s grip eases on his arm and travels up to Steve’s jaw, and his lips are parting, and Steve feels his heart pounding in his chest. But then his eyes flutter closed quite of their own accord, and before he can so much as suck in a breath Bucky is kissing him, and it’s enough to knock what little air he had left out of his lungs.

 

The two break apart too soon, and Steve’s eyes fly open again. He can’t shake the feeling that he’d just spent an hour under water, which was… ridiculous, but he was gasping all the same.

 

Slowly, inexplicably, the ability -- or memory -- of how a living person breathes comes back to him, and he stares at Bucky, who is very still, eyes still closed, and smiling.

 

“Are you doing it again?”

 

Bucky’s eyes open. “Doing what?”

 

“Healing me.”

 

“I -- no. Maybe.”

 

Steve gets to his feet a little shakily, offering Bucky his hand again; but this time, he pushes himself up instead, briefly stumbling as he made his way to his feet.

 

A little tremor of worry worms its way into Steve’s stomach, and he rushes forward to catch Bucky, easing him to sit onto the bed again. “Easy,” he murmurs, reaching up to brush Bucky’s bangs away from his eyes. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a grimace.

 

“No, you aren’t,” Steve sighs. He backs away, eyes not leaving Bucky’s face, and then disappears through the doorway. He absolutely misses the stunned, helpless look Bucky pins to his back, and it’s gone when Steve reappears, a glass of water in hand. “Here.”

 

Bucky stares at Steve for almost too long, then stares at the water even longer, and then looks at Steve once again. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

 

“... You drink it.”

 

“I don’t need to drink it.”

 

“Are you going to die if you drink it?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Then humor me.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes, then lifts the glass to his mouth to take a dainty sip, glaring at Steve while he does so. But he can’t help but laugh at the ridiculously serious look on Steve’s face, and ended up with a noseful of water in return. He looks up, spluttering, and as soon as he could breathe again -- huh. Breathing. That’s different.

 

As soon as he could breathe again, he was glaring again. “Apparently I _will_ die. No thanks to you.”

 

“You didn’t actually swallow,” Steve points out, and suddenly his cheeks are scarlet.

 

Bucky snorts, lifting the glass again. “What are you expecting to happen here?” he asks, throwing an arm behind himself and leaning back, taking a leisurely sip. And swallowing. Loudly.

 

Steve stares at him, and Bucky could have sworn he saw literal sparks fly out of his eyes before he opened his mouth to answer. But before any sound could come out of his mouth, there is a rather loud, disruptive buzz, and a vibration coming from someone’s back pocket.

 

Steve jumps to his feet, swearing a little too loudly when he sees the caller I.D. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t say anything when Steve turns away to answer the phone, instead downing the glass of water while Steve isn’t looking.

 

“Yes, Father?” There’s a reverence in Steve’s tone that Bucky definitely does not like, and he isn’t glaring at Steve’s back so much as the phone in his hand as Steve steps out of the room.

 

He closes the door behind him, only heightening Bucky’s feelings of unease towards the situation at hand. Barnes decides against listening in at the door, as he doesn’t want to diminish Steve’s trust towards him. Not now.

 

Steve stays on the phone for a good seven minutes, and at time Bucky catches little snippets of the conversation. Whatever is going on, it doesn’t sound good. When the door to the bedroom reopens, Steve has his eyes glued to the floor.

 

Bucky almost doesn’t want to break the silence, but it’s killing him to see Steve like this. Instead, he crosses the room, and he pulls Steve against him; he’s almost hoping that will quell the hurricane of emotions filling his chest. But it doesn’t; it simply gets worse until he can all but feel them hammering at his chest, trying to get out.

 

The feeling intensifies when Steve’s hands latch onto the back of Bucky’s shirt, and he starts sobbing into his shoulder. The rhythmic pounding in his chest was starting to make him feel uncomfortable, and he squirmed a little.

 

Steve took a step back, staring at Bucky. “Is that a _heartbeat?_ ”

 

“What? No.” Steve closes the distance between them, and Bucky relaxes immediately. Except for that damn pounding --

 

Steve shifts slightly, pressing his ear against Bucky’s chest. “Uh, Buck. That’s a heartbeat.” He replaces his ear with his hand, and then suddenly jumps back with a yelp, cradling his hand against his own chest. “Bucky. Bucky, did you just--” He presses his other hand to Bucky’s skin, understandably nervously, and lets out a hiss of pain when he makes contact. “What the hell is going on with you?”

 

Surprisingly, Bucky winces at that. But it fades quickly, and he steps away from Bucky. “Stop. Don’t -- don’t worry about it.”

 

“Are you _sick?_ ” Steve starts towards the door again, but he isn’t fast enough.

 

Bucky reaches out and catches the back of his shirt. The fabric gets singed, but they both ignore that. “Just… For once, stop worrying about me. Okay?”

 

“Well, considering the fact that I used to be absolutely terrified of you, I’d take this as a compliment if I were you.” Steve mutters, pursuing his trip to the kitchen.

 

He rummages around in one of the drawers for a few seconds, before finding exactly what he needs. Rushing back towards the bedroom, Steve finds Bucky standing in the same spot he’d left him in.

 

“So, uh… what temperature do you usually run at?” Steve questions.

 

Barnes rolls his eyes. “Sorry, but I haven’t checked it in… about seventy-or-so years?”

 

“No need for the sarcasm, James.” Steve mutters. “Here,” he says, handing Bucky the thermometer.

 

He goes to put it in his mouth, and Steve laughs aloud. “No,” Rogers takes it back, and presses some buttons. “It goes under your arm.” He explains, handing it back.

 

“The twenty first century is weird…” Bucky mutters, following Steve’s instructions and placing the piece of equipment in the correct place this time.

 

Once it beeps, Bucky assumes that means it must be done – like a microwave oven. Steve snatches it away from him before he can even try and make sense of the tiny screen, and then the guy audibly gasps.

 

“One hundred and eleven… I wouldn’t be surprised if you caught fire! Oh my god, Buck!” He exclaims, forcibly leading Bucky over to the bed.

 

A silence falls over them for a few moments, and they lock eye contact once again. “Do you… do you think that by healing me, you kinda took on the pain yourself?” Steve suggests.

 

Bucky shrugs. “If you sit with me, I’ll forgive you.” A tiny smirk tugs at his lips.

 

“Of course,” Steve replies, pushing down the horrible feelings of guilt for what he may or may not have caused.

 

Before taking a seat beside him though, Steve ensures that he retrieves a wet cloth first. ”I’m assuming this isn’t too ‘twenty first century’ for you?” Steve chuckles, as Bucky opens one eye to observe what’s going on.

 

He shakes his head, letting Rogers place the cloth against forehead. Apart from the initial contact, it doesn’t cause too much discomfort. Steve walks around to the other side of the bed, and sits beside Bucky. “Thanks,” Barnes whispers.

 

Steve smiles. He hears Bucky’s breathing gradually begin to slow down, and turns to see that his eyes are indeed closed.

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

_**The next day.** _

 

This time when Steve wakes up, Bucky is already awake. In fact, he’s looking him directly in the eyes.

 

“Good morning,” Rogers mumbles, noticing that they’re sort of… spooning.

 

Bucky untangles himself from Steve’s comforting grip. “Hi,” he says.

 

“How’re you feeling?”

 

“Better, actually. I guess whatever happened wasn’t destined to last as long as it would in humans.” He shrugs.

 

Steve nods, feeling glad. He isn’t sure what to say next, so climbs out of bed and heads towards the other room. “Do you, uh… do you want any breakfast?” He asks.

 

“Sure, why not.” Bucky follows Steve out into the hallway and then into the kitchen.

 

He takes a seat atop the counter, watching as Rogers prepares some pancakes made from scratch. The only time they talk is when Bucky asks a question, genuinely interested – he hasn’t experienced this kind of domesticity in decades, if not more.

 

~

 

Steve had suggested over breakfast that to ease the tension from yesterday – despite the fact that they slept side by side again, and neither commented on the fact that they woke up literally spooning – they should take a trip out. And, what better place than the winter fair coming into town this weekend?

 

Of course, Bucky is unsure. He doesn’t say anything, but inside he’s full of one big ball of anxiety yarn, that’s tangling all around him and making him worry. He hasn’t been out in public with actual intent to have ‘fun’ in years... maybe even centuries. But, the adorable twinkle of excitement in Steve’s eyes might just be worth it.

 

They grab a cab to the venue – a big field just outside of the city. Bucky ensured that they’d wrapped up warm, clearly not for his own sake and Steve knew that too, but he didn’t mind.

 

Once the journey is over and they’ve had a small argument on who’s paying for it, the pair head to the entrance. The place is decorated with an array of lights and statues, there’s stalls with different food, and rides that spin you around. Rogers doesn’t look all too keen on those, so they continue walking.

 

Until they come to an ice rink.

 

“I haven’t skated in... forever,” Bucky murmurs, his mind traveling back to one Christmas in the 40’s, before the war when him and his friends all ice skated across a frozen lake. He can vaguely remember the good feeling that it brought him that day.

 

Steve stops walking once he realises that Bucky is no longer by his side, and sees that he’s still staring at the ice rink sign. “Do you wanna go in?” He offers.

 

Barnes snaps out of his little trance, turning back to look at Steve. “Uh... no, I mean, it’s okay.” He tries to make up an excuse.

 

But, it’s too late. Steve is already pushing open the door of the little, wooden hut. Bucky has no choice but to follow him in, and doesn’t really complain when they make it through the queue and are now choosing their skates.

 

“We used to have lace up skates,” Barnes grumbles, struggling to push down the straps over his boots.

 

Steve chuckles, but seems to be also having the very same issue. As soon as they are finished, they waddle over to the entrance to the ice. It’s in quite a large undercover log cabin type building, with there’s white and blue fairy lights decorating the ceiling above. Music is playing around them, and the sound of laughter from the ice skaters now leaving the rink fills the air.

 

“Ready?” Steve asks, nudging Bucky – who seems to be staring into space again.

 

Before either of them can say anything else, one of the assistants is telling them to step on. Rogers tries to go first, gripping onto the side rail for dear life. Bucky follows, holding Steve’s shoulders so that he won’t fall. They both cling onto the wooden outskirts, beginning to slowly make their way around.

 

“This was a bad idea,” Steve yelps, his feet flailing around underneath him as he almost tips backwards for the third time.

 

Bucky scoffs from behind him, but in an amused manner. “It was your idea, Stevie.”

 

“I was just trying to be nice!” He yells back in defence, gaining a tighter grip on the side as two skaters zoom past him.

 

Letting go of the railing himself, Bucky shakily skates in front of Steve. “Let me get the hang of it for a few minutes, and then I’ll help you.” He says.

 

And, before Steve can protest about it, he’s started skating off. Bucky continues to use the handrail for support when he becomes wobbly, but after a couple of laps all the way around and he’s regained the hang of it without needing to hold on anymore.

 

“How?” Rogers asks, looking genuinely bewildered.

 

Bucky grins. “Take my hands.” He says, holding them out before him.

 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to.”

 

“Yes, you do.” Bucky retorts, moving forwards and prying them off himself.

 

He squeezes them tight, and slowly manages to pull Steve away from the edge. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?” Barnes laughs.

 

With Bucky skating backwards and telling Steve what to do, they actually manage to make it all the way to the other side of the rink without falling. But, that’s when Bucky grows of bored of how easy it is... and, he lets go.

 

“Hey! This wasn’t a part of the deal!” Rogers squeaks loudly, starting to panic and lose his balance.

 

Before he can fall down, Bucky skates forwards again and hooks his hands underneath Steve’s arms, spinning him around so that he hits the rail behind them. Their faces are now a lot closer than Barnes had originally anticipated, and his breath is causing Steve’s glasses to fog up slightly.

 

“That was _not_ funny.” Rogers finally snaps, panting slightly from the fright of the whole ordeal.

 

Bucky chuckles. “You’re very adorable,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to remove the eyewear so that they can see one another properly again.

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am no –“

 

Clearly, Bucky had to think of a quick way to shut Steve up. And, it seemed that kissing him was the only sensible option... so, that’s what he decided to do.

 

Their lips close the minuscule amount of space between them, Bucky’s hands letting go of the rail and protectively resting against the middle of Steve’s back. This kiss isn’t as quick as before, and a lot less about fulfilling a mutual craving like before. It’s slow and passionate, but gentle all at the same time.

 

It seems like a whole hour before Bucky moves back a little, separating them once more. Their eyes open simultaneously, pupils a lot larger than before, and a smirk worn over Barnes’ now flushed facial features.

 

“What?” He comments on the sheer shock that seems to be written over Steve’s face. “This is a date, isn’t it?” The words are only pretending to be a question. The smirk on his face is enough to turn Steve’s cheeks even redder.

 

He attempts at stammering out a reply, but is just too tongue tied to do so. Bucky starts skating away, holding out his hands for Steve to take again... but, apparently the kiss has made him much too wobbly. So, he falls straight downwards instead.

 

Bucky lets out a yelp and scrapes his way to a stop, before turning around and heading back towards Steve. After a few hurried moments where Steve didn’t exactly hurry to get back to his feet, Bucky dragged him back off the ice, ignoring the way Steve kept hissing, “We’re supposed to be going the other way, what are you doing -- stop it” in his ear. Not for nothing, though, was Bucky the stronger of the two of them, and they manage to get off the ice without incident. Or at least, without falling again.

 

But no feeling of relief comes, and when they get away from the chill of the rink, Steve becomes aware that his lower lip is stinging. He reaches up, and his fingers come away a little bloody -- and when he looks at Bucky, the demon’s eyes flash black.

 

“B-Bucky?”

 

“I -- This is my fault.”

 

“What? Don’t be stupid, this is an ice skating rink. Falling fits the profile.”

 

“I didn’t --” He breaks off when Steve suddenly launches forward and kissed him. “--fall.” But he clears his throat, looking away when, according to the swooping feeling in his stomach, that wasn’t exactly true. But then he’s frowning, reaching up and, very gently, featherlight, brushes his thumb against Steve’s lip. “You’re still bleeding,” he says, except -- in a moment, his lip is quite smooth. A little rosy from the cold, but… “God damn it,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing Steve again, his arms tightening around his waist.

 

Suddenly there’s movement behind them, and someone clears their throat. “Excuse me, boys.”

 

Steve all but rockets away, turning to stare at this woman, suddenly aware that they were in public, that even though this was New York instead of, say, Utah, and people were more okay with boys kissing on the street, not _everyone_ was okay with it and --

 

The woman is smiling, and his panic rolls to a stop. Until he sees the look of blatant disbelief on Bucky’s face, which quickly turns to recognition, and then:

 

“Nice meat suit.”

 

Steve stares, trying to work his brain around that statement -- well, actually, trying to get the blood back into his brain to start to work out that statement -- and before he quite gets there, she says something he understands even less.

 

Her smile widens, and she said, “You like it? Я бы сказала, оно более красивое чем раньше, но Дани думает --”

 

“Ну да, конечно это красивое. Но я подумал, что ты... “ He shakes his head suddenly, and Steve can see his train of thought change tracks, even if he can’t understand what he’s saying. “Как ты меня нашла?”

 

“Было легко. Слишком легко.” She clears her throat again, and Steve actually shrinks away from the way anger, fear, and distrust flash across Bucky’s face. “Look, if I could find you, so could anyone else.” The word anyone has an edge to it, and a muscle in Bucky’s back tenses under Steve’s hands.

 

Bucky shrugs himself out of Steve’s grip and folds his arms across his chest. “Natasha,” he says, a warning in his voice. “You can’t expect me to buy that.”

 

One eyebrow arches delicately, and she rolls her eyes at him. “I shouldn’t be able to recognize you for what you are, right? You always were good at that sort of warding. And yet, here we are. Out in the open. Having a nice little chat with your boyfriend.”

 

A sudden surge of indignation flashes through Steve, and he lets out a quick, “Boyfriend?” Except his voice cracks in the middle. He clears his throat quickly. “I’m not his boyfriend.”

 

Bucky and the woman -- Natasha -- pin him with two almost identical looks of disbelief.

 

“Excuse me?” Bucky asks.

 

Steve stares at him for a solid thirty seconds until Natasha clears her throat. Again. He gives himself a little shake, and his voice lowers to a whisper. “Are we? I mean. Am I?”

 

Bucky merely watches him, his expression growing increasingly incredulous. “What exactly did you think we were doing here?” he replies.

 

“I think --”

 

“I think the two of you are precious,” Natasha cuts in, “but this really isn't the time or the place for you to figure out your relationship status.”

 

Bucky drags his gaze away from Steve and focuses on her again with great difficulty. An all too knowing look passes between them, and in the time it takes Steve to bristle at her, Bucky sighs. “Согласен,” he seems to agree. “Where --”

 

They both pause, and Natasha glances over her shoulder while Bucky scans the crowd behind Steve.

 

Eerily at the same time, their eyes flash black. Natasha says a slew of words that have to be swear words, and Bucky mutters, “God damn it,” when his eyes are their normal blue.

 

“What's going on--?” Steve manages, and in a moment Bucky’s hand is in his and their fingers are laced together.

 

“We’re leaving,” he says simply. “Nat?”

 

“The bar is closer.”

 

“Bar? It it’s three in the afternoon--?”

 

“For some people,” Natasha agreed. “But it’s warded.”

 

“But if it’s warded, how are we going to--”

 

“Don't ask stupid questions, James.”

 

Steve’s eyes are wide, and then they are moving. Bucky is pulling Steve along behind him, and Natasha is bringing up the rear. “Two blocks down, turn right.”

 

“Same name as in London?”

 

“Yep.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi from Ames/starnymphs! 
> 
> You may have noticed there's some text here that's... not exactly English. Lovely! You're just as out-of-the-loop as Steve is. If you don't want to be, however, here a translation for you of the Russian dialogue included:
> 
> "I would say it’s prettier than before, but Dani thinks —“  
> “Well, yeah, of course it’s pretty. But I thought that you… How did you find me?”  
> “It was easy. Too easy.” 
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled, we have some great updates coming forward to you, and a special guest making an appearance next chapter! <3 Cheers!


	14. Chapter 14

 

Steve can't remember the last time he ran so quickly, but somehow he wasn't winded when they stopped in front of a bar called Dee’s.

 

But, before Bucky can properly wrap his fingers around the door handle, something grabs Steve’s jacket and yanks him backwards. He cries out from the shock, immediately attracting Bucky’s attention. He follows Steve and whatever has the hold on him into an alleyway beside the bar, and stops dead in his tracks when he becomes face to face with it.

 

“Let him go.” Barnes demands, eyes turning black to mirror the creature before him.

 

The demon laughs, a horrible, taunting sound. “Getting close to humans now, are we? No, honestly. That’s cute.” It speaks in a clearly patronising manner, as Bucky steps forwards.

 

Steve is still being held in the chokehold of the creature, struggling to stay calm as each second passes by. Bucky looks on in horror, knowing that he isn’t strong enough to use his powers yet.

 

“Let him go, and I’ll fight you… that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He bargains.

 

The demon simply scoffs, tightening his grip on Steve. Just as Bucky lunges forwards in an attempt to do something — anything — the demon tosses Steve aside, as if he was some kind of rag doll.

 

Bucky manages to throw the first punch, before being struck back twice as hard. He almost falls down to the floor, hearing Steve yell for him as if in the background. Bucky stands up tall again, raising his fists in front of him. He can see Steve trying to get up out of the corner of his eye, becoming distracted by watching him.

 

Barnes flinches, preparing for another hit once he realises his mistake… but, the hit never comes. Instead, that all too familiar sound of electric fizzing fills the air. The demon falls to the floor, the life having been drained out of him by a certain knife lodged in his back… which seems to belong to Natasha.

 

“You’re welcome,” she mutters, sliding the weapon back inside of the holster tucked underneath her coat. She turns on her heel, her hands folded across her chest, and levels Bucky with a glare.

 

“Спасибо,” he mutters, and suddenly the girl throws her arms around his neck, and Bucky is way too close for comfort.

 

“You’re still an idiot,” she points out, her lips hovering somewhere next to his ear, and when she steps away Bucky’s hands linger around her hips, before he notices Steve staring at him and folds his arms across his chest.

 

“Sorry, but are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Steve stammers, catching Bucky’s arm and pulling him a couple steps away from Natasha, towards the door of the bar. “And anyway, we were heading inside, right?” He glances down at the demon’s dead body, and cringes away from it.

 

Natasha’s eyebrows are raised, but she looks more amused than anything. “Less of an idiot,” she says calmly, stepping around the boys and pulling the door open, dragging the body by the ankle after her.

 

Steve and Bucky both watch in horror as she crosses the threshold -- she’d clearly been right about the place being warded. The body seems to disintegrate, and an unusual smell reaches their nostrils, something vaguely resembling a vineyard. “What --” Steve’s eyes are wide when he realizes that it’s just Natasha standing in the doorway, looking at them expectantly. The body is nowhere to be seen.

 

“I am not going in there,” Bucky says suddenly, stopping short. Steve actually crashes into him, and comes away rubbing his chin.

 

“Like hell you aren’t,” Natasha says. “Get in here or your ass is going to fry. Again.”

 

James shakes his head. “Nat, I’m about ready to take my chances,” he says, and there’s actual fear in his voice. “You killed that guy, and look what happened. I’m not about to be conscious and have to feel that.”

 

She purses her lips. “Steven,” she snaps suddenly, turning and fixing her gaze on Steve, who stiffens. So far as he knew, no one had told her his name. “Get in here.”

 

“I -- I’m okay out here, thanks,” he says quickly.

 

“No, you aren’t.” Natasha gestures with her hand, an odd ‘come-hither’ motion with her fingers, and Steve takes a few steps forward in spite of himself.

 

“Natasha. Don’t magic my boyfriend.”

 

Steve frowns as the weight of those words hit him, but before he can ask whatever force had snuck into his legs gives out, and his legs almost go along with it. He catches himself against the door frame, his eyes wide. “Buck?”

 

Bucky lets out a sigh. “You can go in there, there’s no way to ward out humans.”

 

“But you…”

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’m serious. Get in here before someone else finds you and you get yourself killed.”

 

Bucky closes his eyes tightly, trying to figure out a way to make her understand. “You said it’s warded; there’s no way I can go in there. Hell, I mean, by all rights you shouldn’t be in there.” He pauses as those words hit home. “How are _you_ in there?”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes, then yanks down the collar of the t-shirt she’s wearing. Steve stares for a moment, the sudden appearance of black lace catching him off guard, but then his eyes are glued to her chest for another reason. There’s a symbol carved into her skin, right over her sternum, and Bucky just says, “Huh. Well, that’s certainly old magic. Who hooked you up with a spell like that -- ah.” His eyes drop to a tortoiseshell cat stalking its way over to them, eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the bar.

 

Steve turns to stare at Bucky, “We aren’t talking… real magic, are we?” he asks, sounding more than a little uncertain.

 

It turns out to be a rather useless question when the cat turns into a woman before his very eyes. Her eyes aren’t green, like the cat’s had been, but there is something catlike lingering about her pert smile and the arch of her brows. “Why don’t you come in, and we can talk about it.”

 

In the next moment her eyes flick from Steve to James, and her expression brightens. “Bucky, baby!” she squeals, rushing over and hugging him, much more tightly than Natasha had earlier. “Look at you, out of that hole in the ground and everything! I hear it was even more a pain in the ass than it was last time.”

 

“Last time?” Steve repeats in a stage-whisper to Bucky, who merely shrugs.

 

“Going to Hell is kind of an occupational hazard when you’re a demon,” the woman says with a grin, and Steve can’t help but notice that her teeth don’t look nearly as sharp as Bucky’s. “Your boy here is a troublemaker.”

 

“And call me crazy, Dani, but that hasn’t changed,” Natasha says with a sigh. She reaches out suddenly, catching the woman -- Dani -- by the back of the shirt and pulling her back into the bar. Dani lets out a surprised squeak but lets herself be pulled back, but it happens so quickly she doesn’t have time to let go of Bucky. Before Steve can even blink, the three of them are in the bar, and all he can do is hurry after them.

 

There’s an ominous little clang when the door falls shut behind him.

 

~

  
It’s all a little too much for Steve to wrap his head around. First was the electric feeling that seems to fill the bar instead of air, which becomes more apparent when Steve reaches for Bucky’s hand and receives an actual electric shock in return.

 

“That’s just the warding,” Dani says with a smirk that, for a moment, matches Natasha’s perfectly.

 

“I don’t even know what that is,” Steve mumbles back. He makes a move to bring his finger to his mouth, notices Bucky is staring at him, and stops. And tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

 

“Warding,” Nat says, (turning on her heel and perching, not on a stool, but on the actual bar; there’s no way she should be able to jump that high, and yet -- well, here they are), “is a way to keep things in their place. Or out of places they shouldn’t be.”

 

“It doesn’t work on humans, though,” Dani pipes up. “You guys are like ants, you get everywhere.”

 

“Aren’t… aren’t you human?”

 

“Maybe five hundred years ago,” Bucky says under his breath.

 

Dani turns and glares at him. “I beg your pardon? Were you raised in a barn?”

 

“New York,” Barnes answers.

 

“Close enough.”

 

“I’m from Brooklyn,” Steve supplies, as if that somehow would make it better.

 

Dani raises her eyebrows. “Do you want a prize for that?”

 

Natasha clears her throat, again, and Steve can’t help but notice the way her arm slips around Dani’s shoulders. _Oh._ “We’re not here to have a pissing contest, Dee,” she says quietly.

 

“But speaking of warding,” Bucky says, reaching up and rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly, “how am I not, you know… subatomic particles right now?”

 

“Magic?” Steve asks.

 

“That’s not how it works, Stevie.”

 

“But -- she turned into a cat.”

 

“Actually, I turned into a girl, but, you know, details.”

 

“I don’t know,” Natasha says, cutting over their partners’ childish bickering. “I don’t know why the warding doesn’t work. But you had to have noticed, didn’t you? You warded Steve’s apartment for demons, and --”

 

“-- You still sleep there every night,” Dani says with a grin.

 

“You warded my house?”

 

“I -- Just the apartment,” Bucky stammers. “After I, um, got out of Hell.”

 

“And had the whole damn entourage on his heels.”

 

“It really is for the best, you know, when the King of Hell wants to find you he usually has a --”

 

“Don’t.” Bucky’s entire posture changes in a second, and for a moment, Steve is reminded that his, well, boyfriend, is in fact a demon. “Don’t talk about him.”

 

“We don’t have time to mince words talking about your old lovers, Barnes,” Natasha sighs, ignoring the stunned look Bucky gives her. Which is impressive, because if Bucky looked at Steve like that, Steve would probably burst into flames.

 

“Your--?”

 

“No.”

 

“Bucky, honey,” Dani speaks up. “That demon was tracking you for a reason, and for all you know someone’s noticed he’s… not exactly on the earthly plane anymore. We need to figure out what to do and get you out of here, because I don’t think you two want to sleep here.”

 

“And Dani doesn’t want you fucking on the bar.”

 

“NATASHA.”

 

“Well, you don’t.”

 

“That’s beside the point, they’d be more comfortable if they could sleep in their own beds, and anyway, this is a bar, not a bomb shelter.”

 

“I’ve been in bomb shelters,” Bucky points out. “This would make a veeery poor one.”

 

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “I… For the record, we aren’t --”

 

“Hush, Stevie.” Bucky flashes a smile, the anger forgotten.

 

“You need to keep a lower profile,” Natasha sighs.

 

“We were in a crowd of people, Nat.”

 

“And you healed him. Which obviously caught someone’s attention.”

 

“Wait,” Dani starts, “you can h--”

 

“You caught my attention, at any rate,” Natasha presses on.

 

“Natasha,” Dani stands up on her toes to whisper in her girlfriend’s ear, and Steve just barely makes out the words: “Demons can’t heal people.”

 

“I know, that’s why we’re here.”

 

“For -- sweetie, you don’t need me for that lore.”

 

“For a spell.”

 

“To do what?” Dani’s eyes are wide with interest, but there’s some trepidation there, too. Bucky’s expression is stony and much harder to read; like he’s hiding something. Steve can only watch it all, holding his breath. Except, Steve isn’t actually good at holding his breath, and dissolves into a rather anticlimactic coughing fit in about three seconds.

 

“You can make him human,” Natasha says lightly.

 

Too lightly, apparently, because Dani snaps her mouth shut and pulls out of her grasp. “No way. That’s insane, you could kill him.”

 

“He’s halfway there already,” Natasha says, shaking her head. “And anyway, you know what’s going on, he… probably knows what’s going on.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re wrong,” Bucky mutters.

 

“And I know how to do it,” Natasha finishes with a flourish.

 

“Um, _I_ don’t know what’s going on,” Steve says.

 

“They think they can make me a righteous man,” Bucky says, shaking his head.

 

“A righteous -- Buck, you’re a demon.”

 

“The point of this whole thing is that he isn’t.” It’s Dani who speaks, surprisingly. She doesn’t look happy about it, but there is something calculating in her gaze.

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But --”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How?”

 

“Can you two just stop and breathe for a bit?” Dani suggests, glaring at Natasha; which is fair, it is her fault to begin with.

 

“No,” Steve coughs.

 

Bucky can’t help but smile slightly, and snaps his fingers -- but the inhaler he was planning on summoning doesn’t appear. He snaps again, and Natasha just rolls her eyes, while Dani stares from Steve to Bucky and back again.

 

“Oh.” She says suddenly, and when everyone looks at her, her cheeks flush.

 

In the end, Bucky just reaches into Steve’s jacket pocket and passes it to him. “Doesn’t have quite the same effect,” he mutters.

 

Dani sighs, and when the couple look over at her — she’s smiling at them. “What? You’re just sickeningly adorable to watch.” The girl shrugs.

 

Bucky frowns, not used to being described in such a… “cutesy” manner. Even Steve is a touch embarrassed, as he fumbles around whilst trying to find his pocket again.

 

There’s a small minute of silence between the four, and then Natasha breaks it. “Well, look. The offer is on the table.” She states matter-of-factly.

 

Before Bucky can think of an answer, Danneel whispers something into Nat’s ear again. Her girlfriend nods in approval, and then Dani slinks off to the backroom. She returns carrying two, tiny bags.

 

“These will keep you both safe. This one is a cloaking spell,” She says, handing it over to Bucky. “And, this one is similar… but, for humans.” The woman smiles, giving it to Steve, who hesitantly accepts.

 

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What exactly do you think is going on here?” he asks, his gaze shifting from Dani to Natasha.

 

For the first time, Natasha looks nervous. “Can we go into the office and talk about that?”

 

“Whatever you have to say to him, you can say in front of me!” Steve is overwhelmed with another bout of bravery, puffing his chest out and taking a step forwards, as if that’ll make any difference.

 

Nat sighs. She looks at Bucky, who simply shrugs accompanied by a smile. “Alright, fine.” She huffs.

 

Dani looks from her girlfriend, and then towards the two men opposite. She has somewhat of a shared nervous demeanour about her, as if she and Nat know something that Bucky and Steve do not.

 

Nat scowls between the three them, then purses her lips and lets out a sigh. “Fine.”

 

Bucky settles back on his haunches slightly, watching her carefully.

 

“Ты конечно уже знаешь, как они говорят,” Natasha begins. Bucky merely looks nonplussed, but Dani hisses, “I _hate_ it when they do that,” at Steve before Nat continues: “О душах которые идут туда, где они не принадлежат.”

  
Bucky’s eyes narrow. “А ты считаешь… что, именно? Моя душа больше не существует, она была уничтожила когда мы вместе сбежали. Ты увидела как все произошло.”

 

Natasha stares at him. “Souls can’t be destroyed,” she points out with a sigh.

 

“Nat --”

  
“Она не могла быть уничтожена,” Natasha repeats, an edge to her voice that makes Dani jump a little. That seems to settle the matter, somehow.

 

“That’s just a goddamn urban legend,” Bucky says sharply. In that moment Natasha’s eyes flash black, and Dani’s arm’s wrap around her waist like a vice. “What do you know about souls, anyway? You never worked at the crossroads.”

 

Natasha lets out a derisive snort of laughter. “That’s what you think,” she says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you weren’t meant to be a --”

 

“Tasha. Honey.” There’s a warning in Dani’s tone. “Let it go.”

 

A very awkward silence reigns, and, if possible, Dani pulls Natasha even closer against her, resting her forehead on the other girl’s shoulder. But suddenly, something occurs to Steve. Natasha’s eyes had turned black every time Bucky mentioned God -- but Bucky himself shouldn’t even be able to say it in the first place. And his eyes had stayed their regular (dreamy) blue.

 

“What can you do?” Steve asks, a little tentatively, and lets out another nervous cough when everyone’s eyes land on him. “I mean, you can turn him human?”

 

Bucky lets out a hiss, almost like a cat, which makes Dani laugh, and she speaks up before he can say anything. “Just, for now, take the hex bags and get home for the night, and we’ll figure out a way out of this.”

 

Natasha and Bucky break their staring contest (in which they’d been glaring daggers at each other and aiming to kill), and Bucky sighs.”Fine,” he says, slipping the bag around his neck and stuffing it down his shirt with far more aggression than was necessary. Steve stares at his little bag, and stuffs it in his pocket instead. He doesn’t want to even begin to think about what would happen if Jennifer -- or worse, his father -- would do if he got caught with it.

 

Dani gives him an encouraging smile, letting go of Natasha and crossing the floor to scoop him into a hug. “It was nice meeting you,” she says, and giggles when Steve sneezes.

 

She merely blows a kiss at Bucky, however, and then turns into a cat again, winding around Natasha’s ankles with a low purr.

 

Steve doesn’t quite have it in him to process that transformation, and lets himself be dragged out of the bar.

 

~

  
The walk back from the bar is uneventful, but that didn’t stop Bucky from glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. But it happens quickly enough; eventually Steve is simply settled down on his bed, a book in his hand and a cup of hot tea on the nightstand. He’s content with reading whilst Bucky has a bath – it’s been a long day for both of them, mainly due to the whole ordeal with that demon trying to kill them earlier and all. But, Natasha (apparently) had their back.

 

He begins to read the page where his bookmark was nestled, when he hears Bucky cry out. “What the fuck?!” It isn’t unusual for Barnes to curse... but, it comes slightly unexpected when all he’s supposed to be doing is running a bath for himself.

 

Steve jumps out of the bed, fearing that he’s being bombarded by the shower or something yet again. He hurries into the bathroom, bursting in through the door with slight reminiscence to the first time that he did this – a little while back.  
“Not a cake, not a cake... _Not. A. Cake._ ” Barnes is repeating over and over again, his back turned to Steve as of the moment.

 

Rogers frowns, still caught in a state of utter confusion towards what is going on. “Bucky, what the –” Steve begins his question, but becomes unable to finish due to his boyfriend swivelling around.

 

Usually, the fact that he’s shirtless would be enough to make Steve stammer and trip over his words, or heat up his cheeks in literal seconds. But, this time there’s something else far too distracting to even bother about his figure.

 

“WHY ARE YOU EATING A BATHBOMB?!” Rogers blurts out, almost as if it’s one single word.

 

He clutches the door frame for support, laughter exploding out of him.

 

“What’s a bath... bomb?!” The poor guy mumbles, his tongue still stuck out and now fizzing from the object he has apparently just attempted to take a bite out of.

 

Bucky drops it onto the floor, and tries to spit the rest of it out. “Steve, what is this? Why do you have cake looking soap in here?!” He yells, using his hands to now scrape the lilac substance out of his mouth.

 

Unable to answer due to the absolute hysterics Steve is now enduring, he slowly sinks to the floor.

 

“STEVE!” Bucky snaps, his face contorting into an expression of pure disgust as he continues to taste the glitter explosion. “Stop laughing!”

 

“It’s... it’s not soap!” He wheezes back, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

Deciding that Steve truly isn’t going to assist him during this disaster, Barnes rushes over to the sink and begins to wash out his mouth. After most of the purple remains are now splattered into the white porcelain, Bucky grabs the mouthwash for good measure.

 

“What in... What _was_ that?!” Bucky sighs heavily, grimacing as he swallows and realises that the god damned thing is still leaving an aftertaste.

 

Still unable to answer, James decides that maybe he should go over and help Steve before he legitimately passes out. “It really wasn’t that funny,” he mutters, lifting his boyfriend up to his feet again.

 

“Oh, it really was, Buck.” Steve wipes his eyes, gradually beginning to regain a normal breathing pattern.

 

They exit the bathroom, and Bucky picks up the blue inhaler that’s sat inside of the nightstand drawer. Steve takes it, looking up at him with such a mischievous smirk that Barnes rolls his eyes.

 

“I miss the old days, when bombs were just... bombs,” he sighs, causing Steve to choke with laughter mid-use of his inhaler.

 

He recovers shortly afterwards, and sits down on the bed. “Well, the war probably was a downside.”

 

“True,” Bucky muses. “Gay rights, too.”

 

Steve nods. “Why would you even think I’d keep cake in the bathroom, anyway? Dork,” he giggles.

 

“Hey!” Bucky pouts, trying his best to look act faux offended.

 

He takes a seat beside Steve, and turns to lock their gazes. Neither of them have to say anything, because they both know what the other is thinking. The pair lean in, their movements mirroring one another perfectly.

 

Halfway into the kiss, Steve starts to laugh once more. Bucky hesitantly moves backwards, his eyes barely opening as he utters a mildly annoyed “What?” To his stupidly adorable boyfriend before him.

 

Rogers opens his eyes too. “You taste like mint and... and, flowers!” He erupts into another fit of the giggles.

 

Bucky can’t help but grin (a glittery smile), because the happiness is a contagious emotion – especially when it’s being portraying Stevie. “Shut up,” he shakes his head, pressing his lips against Steve’s again before he can even think about commenting on the pink glitter that’s still covering Bucky’s previously pearly whites.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

_**Two months later…** _   
_**One evening.** _

 

Steve and Bucky are sat together on the couch, Barnes with his arm around Steve’s shoulders. They’ve been watching movies all afternoon, listening to the rainfall from outside. It’s soothingly relaxing, but unfortunately Steve has been trying to ignore a worsening headache for the past three hours.

 

“Stevie, you awake there?” Bucky asks, eyes still glued to the screen.

 

“Uh-huh,” Rogers mumbles.

 

Reaching for the remote, Bucky pauses the movie. “Guess what?” He grins.

 

“What?” Steve asks, rubbing his eyes.

 

“So, you know that fancy new restaurant that opened last month?” He begins. “Guess who has reservations for tomorrow night?”

 

Rogers sits up, a confused expression upon his face.

 

“We do!” Bucky exclaims, pure excitement bursting throughout the sentence.

 

“How on earth did you manage that?” Steve asks, genuinely shocked – the place has been fully booked practically since it started being built a few months back.

 

Bucky taps the side of his nose, and chuckles quietly. “Are you excited?” He pulls Steve closer.

 

“Of course! I’m just… tired,” Rogers mutters.

 

Kissing the top of Steve’s head, Bucky then presses the play button in the remote. “We’ll get to bed in a minute. Feel free to nap on me,” he offers.

 

As soon as the movie ends, Bucky scoops his boyfriend up into his arms — bridal style, if you will. He carries Steve into the bedroom, settling him down into the bed. Steve’s eyes are barely open, as he mumbles something about brushing his teeth. Barnes shares the bathroom with him, the pair not really caring about privacy any longer.

 

They retire to bed together, snuggling under the covers. Bucky kisses Steve on the cheek, before switching off the bedside lamp.

 

“Did you take all of your medicines?” He asks.

 

“Yes, Buck.” Comes a sleepy reply.

 

Steve buries his head against Bucky’s chest, letting his boyfriend play with his hair. He falls asleep in mere minutes, hoping that by tomorrow his headache and slowly developing sore throat will have diminished.

 

~

 

**_The next morning…_ **

 

Steve wakes up feeling like he’s been hit by a truck, but somehow it doesn’t feel as bad as it normally does. Not with Bucky wrapped around him and holding him close, his usual warmth keeping from most likely feeling even worse. But Steve can definitely feel the start of a very bad cough in the back of his throat, even though he had felt better once he’d gotten used to their meetings with Dani.

 

He’d even come away with another hex bag, which was apparently something that affected his foster family more than him. He’s not sure what exactly the spell is meant to do, but they had seemed to be warmer towards him, somehow. He accidentally let the word ‘boyfriend’ slip at dinner once, and they hadn’t even blinked.

 

Which is a considerable step up, because he probably still had the marks from the last time he’d let something like that slip. It had been that, more than anything, that had made him so reluctant to keep dating his ex. Or anyone, for that matter.

 

Steve glances at Bucky, and is surprised to find those blue eyes watching him, concern etched in his features. “What?” he manages, and winces when the scratchiness of his throat is obvious in his voice.

 

“You’re hot,” Bucky points out.

 

“What?”

 

“Your temperature, dummy. Do you have a fever?”

 

“No, of course n--” The words are cut off when a thermometer is shoved into his mouth, and he pouts around the glass tube until it registers.

 

After a good few minutes, Bucky is frowning. “One-oh-five,” he muses. His eyebrows quirk together, but Steve laughs.

 

“Buck, that thing is fifty years old, it’s probably busted.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, fully aware that Bucky isn’t going to let this go, and goes after his own, much more high-tech, thermometer. But then that one beeps out at 105, too.

 

“You were saying?” Bucky asks, eyebrows raised.

 

“Probably a fluke,” Steve mutters. But he settles into bed again anyway, unable to help the wave of exhaustion that crashes over him. His eyes flutter closed, and when he opens them again, Bucky is shaking his shoulder. “What?” he asks, an edge of annoyance in his voice, but it fades in an instant when the worry on Bucky’s face intensifies.

 

“I’ve been shaking your shoulder for the last five minutes, Steve,” he says. The worry spikes into what sounds like full-blown panic in his voice. “Hang on, I’m calling Dani.”

 

Despite Steve trying his best to argue against it, Bucky goes right ahead and makes the call. It’s not like Steve can tackle him, since he’s barely able to even move his hands right now.

 

The witch arrives extremely quickly, just… appearing in the bedroom. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” Rogers mutters, opening one eye to observe that she’s carrying a small briefcase in one hand.

 

Dani promptly ignores his sarcastic comment, and proceeds towards the bed where he lies. She rests the little case atop of the covers, and snaps it open. When she begins pulling out item after item, Steve’s eyes widen.

 

“That’s like Hermione’s bag,” he mutters, in a state of genuine awe.

 

“Or Mary Poppins’,” Bucky adds.

 

She giggles at the comments, before closing the case.

 

“Dani, what can you do to help him?!” Bucky blurts out, standing behind her and biting his fingernails.

 

“James, take a breath. He’s going to be alright.” Dee turns around to face the nervous wreck. “Could you fetch me some water, please?” She requests.

 

The second that Bucky has left the room, Steve speaks up. “How long will this take? Me and Buck have a date tonight, and he’s been super excited about it… and, and, I don’t want to let him down.” He stammers, glancing nervously towards the door.

 

Dani adverts her gaze downwards, and then back up to Steve. She sighs, quietly, chewing on her bottom lip for a few moments. “A day… at the least?” The witch admits.

 

The realisation that Steve has practically ruined their date night hits Steve hard, and his bottom lip begins to tremble a little bit. “Are you sure?” He whispers.

 

“Oh gosh, don’t —”

When Bucky walks in, and sees his boyfriend with tears rolling down his cheeks, he assumes the worst. “What did you do to him?!” Barnes strides over, towering above Dani in quite a terrifying manner.

 

“Nothing!” She squeaks, removing her hand away from where she’d been rubbing her thumb over Steve’s in an attempt to comfort his woes.

 

Steve tries to explain what’s wrong to his boyfriend, but it all tumbles out in a sobbing mess instead. “I — I ruined our date! An—and, it’s all my fault! I’m sorry, Bucky… I’m sorry.”

 

Dee clutches her own chest (where her human heart would be, if she had one that is) and watches the couple. Bucky gently engulfs Steve in a hug, and slowly rubs his back. He only moves backwards to hold him carefully by the shoulders, so that Steve has to look him in the eye.

 

“Look at me,” Bucky says softly. “Look at me when I tell you, that nothing matters to me more than you do. I don’t care about the restaurant, I just care about you feeling better, okay?”

 

Steve manages a slight nod after this, and Bucky uses his thumb to wipe underneath his boyfriend’s tired looking eyes. “Alright, so we’re almost out of Aspirin. Me and Dee will head out and get some, okay?” He presses a kiss to Steve’s lips, not exactly worrying about getting sick anymore.

 

When Bucky turns and gestures for her to follow, Dani huffs. “What if he gets lonely?” She pouts.

 

“You’ve prepared your spell… and, you and I both know that it’ll take a few hours to marinate. Now, c’mon because Steve needs to rest without having to deal with extra allergies.” Bucky says sternly, and Dee glares at him.

 

Nevertheless she gets to her feet and follows him, making a mental note to perfect the allergy healing spell for the next time she sees Steve again.

 

But when the apartment is empty and the lights are turned out, and Steve is left with just the sounds of cars passing in the street below, an uneasy feeling comes over him. He tosses a little in bed, quite certain he can hear something -- something that doesn’t quite belong in his house.

 

Wait, no. That rushing sound had to be coming from the street… _Right?_ It was just traffic. Steve forces his eyes closed, tugging the blanket up over his head. It’s stifling, but at least he feels a little better, in a different sense.

 

When he drifts off, he can’t help but notice a triumphant little chuckle… but surely that’s got to be the start of a dream.

 

~

 

Dani stops dead outside the pharmacy, her eyes not on the street in front of them, but on the sky up above.

 

“Dee?” Bucky can’t help but feel nervous, and the look on her face doesn’t help. At all.

 

“Something just broke the wards,” she whispers.

 

“What?” The word leaves Bucky in a shout that makes passersby jump and turn to stare at them, looking quite alarmed.

 

“I… I don’t know, honey,” she says, quickly. “But we have to go back. Here, let me just --” She reaches out and grabs his hand, and in a moment Bucky is faced with the highly unpleasant sensation of being forced very quickly through a very tiny tube.

 

He comes to in front of Steve’s apartment building, gasping for breath, and then turns to stare at Dani. “Why are we out here?”

 

“I can’t go in there,” she answers. She makes for the door, but when she reaches out, it’s like she reaches a glass wall.

 

“You were just in there! What --”

 

“It’s warded. Someone’s warded the building.”

 

Bucky stares at her, then, with an angry growl, pushes past her, grasping the doorknob unimpeded. He doesn’t even look back at her as he barrels into the building and up to Steve’s apartment. He pulls the door open, searching the entryway frantically -- but nothing is out of place. It’s just eerily still. “Steve?”

 

He creeps further along the hallway, pausing in the doorway to the bedroom. Steve’s asleep, though unusually peacefully -- but maybe the spell kicked in sooner than either of them calculated. He crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Steve’s chest…

 

“God, Steve, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers; Steve’s chin gives a little jerk, but he doesn’t wake until Bucky reaches over and brushes his hair away from his face.

 

“James?” Steve almost looks surprised to find himself awake, and Bucky almost sobs with the relief sweeping over him. Everything’s fine.

 

“Dee said something was going on, and --” He leans forward, peering into Steve’s face, trying to gauge how awake he is. He’s vaguely irritated by how poorly he can see in the darkness, but he really doesn’t have time to worry about that now. “We brought you medicine. But she has it, it’s outside, are you really…?” He trails off, the relief yielding to something else. There’s something different in Steve’s eyes.

 

“I’m alright,” Steve promises, his hands tightening on the blanket. “I just… I was under the weather, I guess.” He tilts his chin upwards; they’re so close he just barely catches Bucky’s lower lip. “I feel better now that you’re here, love.”

 

The kiss seems to surprise them both, but the word ‘love’ leaving Steve’s lips is electric. Bucky doesn’t care that Steve didn’t actually say it, that it’s probably too soon, or that he’s just about died, before the blood circuits back to his brain he says it back: “I love you.”

 

Steve pulls Bucky down with surprising strength, his hand creeping up Bucky’s thigh. But his touch is too knowing, the kiss too deep, and Steve has never initiated anything like this, however much he wanted to.

 

Bucky breaks the kiss with a gasp, his eyes wide. “What are you --?” Bucky reaches over and touches Steve’s forehead, but the kid is burning up.

 

Steve moves to sit up too quickly -- but the groan of pain doesn’t come. And, truth be told, there’s no way for the spell to work this well so soon.

 

“Hell, Steve, what’s going on with you?” Bucky’s asking himself more than anything at this point, half-convinced Steve’s delirious from the fever. But to his surprise, Steve laughs. Except, it isn’t a sound Bucky’s ever heard come out of his boyfriend’s mouth. If it wasn’t impossible he could have sworn it was --

 

“Didja miss me, James?” Steve’s eyes flash black, eerie in the darkness and the shadows on his face cast by the streetlight outside.

 

If Bucky still had his soul, it probably would have frozen in his chest. Instead, he only feels a hot surge of anger, pounding through his veins like a heartbeat he hasn’t had since… since the last time he’d heard Jude laugh.

 

“How the hell did you get in him?” Bucky demands, his voice shaking with rage.

 

“Ah, that. It was pretty easy once I switched out the hex bag this guy had on him. Once it burned through the warding when he came home, this one made him sick,” Jude reaches behind the headboard and produced a tiny red bag, quite different from the ones Dani had handed them ages ago. “After that, you two went running, and your poor little church-boy was out like a light. He’s up now, of course,” he continues, with a grin that looks entirely out of place on Steve’s face. “You should hear the bullshit he’s yelling at me. It’s precious.”

 

“Jude --” Bucky has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “If you want to get back at me, you have me. Let Steve go.”

 

“I’m afraid you should have convinced him to sell his soul while you had the chance. Y’see, I like this part of the game better somehow.” Jude has the audacity to wink, and it’s like a knife twisting in Bucky’s gut. “It’s nice to know you won’t do anything to hurt him. Pretty comfortable living space for such a little guy, I have to admit.”

 

Something inside Bucky seems to break in that moment. He reaches out and catches Jude by the collar of Steve’s shirt, and all but drags him off the bed as he gets to his feet. “Let. Him. Go.” He notices twin bluish lights reflect in Steve’s eyes as Bucky reaches for his jaw, certain (or at least wishing very hard) he’d be able to heal whatever damage he caused -- but he stops short at the look of horror on Steve’s face.

 

It stops him dead in his tracks; he can’t stand to see that expression, he can’t handle Steve looking at him like he’s a monster. It doesn’t even register that it hadn’t been Steve in the first place until black smoke pours out his mouth and billows out the window with enough force to rattle the glass in its panes. Steve collapses against him, and Bucky’s shaking when he catches him; his knees almost give out in the process. Bucky settles Steve back down before he collapses onto the bed himself.

 

A loud meow startles him to his feet, and his eyes fly to the window -- where a familiar tortoiseshell cat is perched, staring at him through the glass. It’s there, on the windowsill, that he first notices something; not a ward, per se, but a series of runes etched in the dust there. He swears under his breath, wiping them away, and opens the window. Cool afternoon air hits his face like a slap, but it’s almost a relief.

 

The cat leaps into the room with a chirp, and by the time Bucky turns around, Dani is standing there, her eyes narrowed as she peers between the boys.

 

“I’m going to kill him.” Bucky exhales, and despite the fact that it’s only the three of them in the room right now, Dani thinks she knows who.

 

She steps forwards, gently resting a hand upon Bucky’s shoulder. “Was it -- him?” It comes out in a whisper; the poor girl is almost afraid to utter his name.

 

He nods, feeling all of the anger start to melt into sadness instead. Bucky wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, and kneels down beside the bed. He’s about to reach up to touch Steve’s forehead again, but the boy suddenly gasps awake.

 

“Bucky?!” Steve’s eyes are wide, confused.

 

“Steve, I’m so sorry. I should’ve never left you alone, I’ll never leave you aga —“ Rogers lurches forwards, wrapping his arms around Bucky and not letting go.

 

Bucky can hear him begin to cry, and he envelopes Steve into a shared embrace. They don’t let go for what feels like hours on end, not until Dani speaks up behind them. “I’m going to fetch more hex bags... stronger magic,” she informs.

 

It’s Barnes that turns to look at her, Steve still clinging to him. He nods, telling her to “hurry back.” She simply snaps her fingers and disappears, leaving the pair alone once more.

 

Steve eventually leans backwards, resting his head back against the pillow. “Bucky...” he begins, reaching for his boyfriend’s hand.

 

“Wait,” James interrupts. He climbs onto the bed, and lies on the other side. “Did you... how much of that were you ‘awake’ for?” He asks, his voice reduced to a whisper.

 

The tiniest of smiles plays upon Steve’s lips, but this time it’s genuine. The comfort of having Steve back causes Bucky to sigh, and he can’t help but hug him all over again.

 

“That’s what I’m trying to say,” his voice is muffled against Bucky’s chest. Barnes lets him go. “I love you too.” Steve says.

 

The pair interlock gazes, and Bucky is hit in the face with a huge concoction of emotions at the three words — relief that the fact he had said it first wasn’t truly a disaster, the shock that Steve... that Steve could love him back. It all swirls around inside of him at once, as he tries to process it and then a wide grin spreads over Bucky’s face. He gently cups his boyfriend’s jaw, and presses a kiss to his mouth. A kiss that says “you’re safe now.” And, Rogers returns it with reciprocated feelings.

 

“Ew, I’d say get a room... but,” Dani’s voice interrupts the moment, and scares Steve enough that he almost falls backwards off of the bed. “Sorry!” She sing songs.

 

The woman begins placing various hex bags over the apartment, and draws different symbols over the windows. Steve is honestly much too tired to question it, even if it does seem like overkill. But right about now he doesn’t care what’s going on — as long as it means he’s safe, and so is Bucky.

 

“Hey, Buck… do you think we can still make the reservation for tonight?” Rogers looks up at his boyfriend, who chokes on a burst laughter.

 

He shakes his head, a smile worn upon his washed out features. “Movie night instead?” Bucky suggests.

 

“Maybe I should stay… just to make sure that you’re both safe, and to ensure the spell works. He can drink it soon.” Dani adds.

 

Bucky looks over at her, frowning slightly.

 

“Drink it?” Steve squeaks, looking positively terrified.

 

She laughs. “Relax, Stevie!” she exclaims, having long since caught on to the nickname. “It tastes like bubblegum… or, so I’ve been told.”

 

“You -- you haven’t tried it?”

 

“I’ve never had a demon possess me,” she says lightly. “Or been sick, now that you mention it -- which is impressive, I’ll have you know, there was the whole thing with the plagues.”

 

“There was also the Spanish Inquisition.”

 

“I’m not _that_ old.”

 

“Oh my god, Dee, what’s a century, give or take?”

 

“Still didn’t happen.”

 

“Bucky?” Steve asks suddenly, breaking up the…. Whatever it is. Argument? Well, no, it’s not exactly an argument. He clears his throat again. “Bucky, why do you keep saying ‘god’?”

 

Bucky opens his mouth for what would undoubtedly be a snappy retort, then stops short and frowns. “What?”

 

“You just said --”

  
“Oh my god, I know what I said -- I -- wait, what?” Bucky turns to Dani, unable to hide his confusion. “How is that --?”

 

“I have no clue,” Dani says with a sniff, almost sounding like she’s offended Bucky even asked. “I’m not some cosmic entity, I don’t have all the answers. But it is weird,” she added, her voice as soothing as it would go. Which was… Quite a bit. Steve stifles a yawn on the back of his hand.

 

For that matter, Bucky does, too, and Dee’s expression sharpened. “Bed,” she says, suddenly, her voice switching into something like a ‘mom’ voice so fast it gave the boys whiplash. She reaches into her coat pocket and produces the medicine they’d grabbed from the pharmacy. “Stellar move there, by the way, Bucky. Charging in here and leaving the important stuff with the person stuck outside the wards.”

 

Bucky’s eyes narrow, like he doesn’t quite trust the sleepiness settling over him. “It was an emergency,” he protests. “You would’ve done the same thing.”

 

“No, if I’d done the charging, I would have had the medicine with me.” She grins at them, then presses the spell Steve is meant to drink (he shudders at the thought, and both of them give him the same concerned look, which is a bit uncanny), and flounces towards the door. “I’ll sleep on the couch, then, shall I?”

 

“I -- yeah, sure?” Steve says, his eyes wide. Bucky’s gaze snaps between the two of them, and for a moment he frowns, but it flickers away when Dee smiles.

 

“Cheers,” she says happily. “But seriously. Spell. Medicine. Oh! And here’s some allergy medicine, too, because sometimes the spell snaps back when I’m sleeping and then, you know, cat hair. It gets everywhere.” She tosses the box towards the bed, and lets out a squeak when it hits Bucky in the face.

 

Bucky catches it before it falls into his lap, his attention going to the label before he hands it to Steve. “Drowsiness?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Steve mumbles. “I mean, it’s late, if I took something non-drowsy I would be up all night.”

 

“Plus the spell might make you sleepy,” Dee says.

 

“...You did hear the part where we want to watch a movie, right?” Bucky frowns.

 

Steve stares between the two of them, not quite getting what’s going on -- he’s honestly too exhausted to care already -- and takes the bottle with the spell in it. “...Is there a reason why it’s black?”

 

“Well, largely for the aesthetic.” Dee smiles. “It doesn’t affect anything. And it suits the bottle.”

 

Steve opens the stopper and gives it a dutiful sniff, and his nose wrinkles. He’s immediately met with a strong smell of cinnamon, cloves, and… something suspiciously like camomile, which altogether did not smell like bubblegum.

 

He almost spits half of it out when he realizes that it does.

 

Dee scowls at him. “What did you expect? It’s _magic._ ”

 

He finishes the rest of it in a gulp, and gasps for breath after he swallows. He glances between the two of them again, noting their expectant faces, and says, “...I don’t feel any different.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Bucky says. “That’s how you can tell a spell is good. Nasty side-effects usually only happen when your witch is lazy.”

 

“Or just no good,” Dani says, but her smile widens significantly as she disappears through the doorway and leaves Steve to the rest of the medicine, which he takes with no further incident (except for Bucky grumbling about the lack of non-drowsy medication: “That’s one of the few good things about the twenty-first century, Steve.”)

 

She reappears with a blanket draped around her shoulders and a stack of DVDs, humming to herself as she hits the power button on the television.

 

“Excuse you,” Bucky says suddenly, and Steve jerks himself awake.

 

“What?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Picking a movie?”

 

“For _our_ date night?” Bucky jerks his head towards Steve.

 

“Well, neither of you were in any hurry to do it,” she points out. The DVD player hums to life, and very soon the dulcet tones of the movie hit the speakers.

 

In a moment she squishes onto the edge of the bed, smiling to herself.

 

“Um?”

 

“Buck, I don’t mind,” Steve mumbles, which… admittedly doesn’t help.

 

Dani notices the hostility, and lets out a sigh. “Believe it or not,” she says quietly, “I was worried sick, too, back there. And I couldn’t do anything about it like you could.”

 

Bucky freezes in place, his eyes widening. “I -- Sorry,” he mumbles, his gaze falling to his hand, clasped with Steve’s.

 

But she brightens. “Trust me,” she says. “You won’t even notice I’m here.” And with that, she transforms, curling up in the space between Steve’s legs and Bucky’s.

 

~

  
Steve is woken up by a loud noise. It repeats itself a few times before he’s awake enough to realize it’s his phone ringing, and in seconds he’s flying across the room, trying to figure out where exactly it went. He’s totally oblivious to the other person he’d just kicked awake, and the startled meow that sounds when Bucky jolts upright, too.

 

He stares at the name on the screen, then seems to gather himself up -- or maybe find his courage -- before bringing his phone to his ear.

 

“Father,” he says, in a resigned voice. “Good morning.”

 

Bucky all but turns into a marble statue, and the cat’s eyes follow him as he makes his way into the next room, even though by all rights he should still be in bed. After a moment, she stretches, before settling more contentedly into Bucky’s lap.

 

He rolls his eyes, but is too groggy to push her off. That is, until Steve wanders back in, the picture of total anxiety. “What happened?” Bucky asks, getting up so quickly that Dee rolls onto the floor.

 

“We — uh…” Steve inhales. “We’ve been invited to dinner at my foster parent’s house, tomorrow night.” He explains, not a single ounce of joy carried across in his tone.

 

The disgruntled cat upon the floor transforms back into a human, and she blows a strand of hair out of her eyes, in a rather annoyed manner. “Can’t you just tell them that you’re sick? It wouldn’t exactly be lying,” she points out.

 

“Unfortunately, I’ve played that card one too many times already — only a couple were lies though,” he admits.

 

Bucky walks over to him, taking his hands into his own. “Well, if you feel uncomfortable at any point during the meal, then we’ll just leave.” He reassures Steve, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of his hands.

 

“Okay.” He agrees, rubbing his nose.

 

Barnes glances down at his sleepwear. “Cat hair,” he mutters under his breath, turning to glare towards Dee.

 

She rolls her eyes, and snaps her fingers. “There, clean.” The woman huffs, not taking kindly to the annoyed expression that Bucky keeps on giving her lately.

 

A few seconds pass, and she begins collecting up her things. “I’d better get back to Tasha,” Dani announces.

 

Steve looks a little downhearted, but he nods.

 

“I'm glad you’re okay… both of you,” she looks at the couple, and smiles.

 

After that, she’s gone in a cloud of candy floss coloured smoke. “Aesthetic?” Rogers wonders aloud, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

 

“Probably,” he chuckles.

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

_**The next afternoon…** _

 

Bucky can’t shake the sense of dread in his stomach as he watches Steve get ready. His boyfriend’s face is too serious, and when he changes into a pair of black slacks and a black button down, it’s almost like he’s preparing for a funeral, rather than an afternoon with his family.

 

“Hey, Stevie. You know there’s a slight chance this is going to go okay, right?” he pipes up, trying to shake the tension.

 

“I’ve never brought a guy home before,” Steve says quietly. “They found out I was seeing someone once, and it…. It didn’t end well.” He left it at that, but the empty spaces and silence seemed to say more than even words would have been able to.

 

Bucky sighs, barely even audibly. He snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, and they both stare into the mirror that’s hung above the chest of drawers. “It’ll be alright.” He reassures his boyfriend, who’s struggling to tie his tie.

 

Swivelling Rogers around, Bucky ties it for him. Once he’s completed giving his helping hand, Barnes kisses Steve lightly on the cheek. “We should get going,” he points out.

 

Steve nods, glancing at his watch. He usually arrives at family meals early – or, they’ll complain that he’s late. Sometimes, they get annoyed if he’s early… there’s genuinely no pleasing these people, even at the best of times.

 

The pair head outside together, one a lot more anxious than the other. Bucky laces their fingers together before flagging down a cab, and insisting on paying before Steve can even open his mouth to argue against it. The journey isn’t a long one, but it’s a lot easier than walking. They arrive with fifteen minutes to spare, Bucky pays the driver and they get out onto the sidewalk.

 

“Nice house,” Barnes mutters. “Are we… gonna go up to the door?” He gently nudges Steve with his elbow.

 

“No, I’m good here.” He replies, and Bucky is unsure whether or not he’s being sarcastic.

 

“C’mon,” Bucky whispers, his hand pressing just a little harder into the small of Steve’s back to get him towards the porch. “It won’t be that bad. I’m right beside you.” He isn’t sure if he believes that himself, but one of them has to be the strong one.

 

Eventually they make it to the front door, and Bucky starts a little when Steve reaches out and knocks, rather than just letting himself in.

 

After a stretching moment, the door opens, a harassed looking woman appearing behind it. But her face brightens when she sees Steve, pulling the door wider in an instant and pulling him into the house in an admittedly awkward one-armed hug.

 

Bucky sweeps in after them, gently easing the door shut behind him, and then turns on his heel to face -- well, apparently, everyone. Two siblings and the Padre himself, still in his collar. And --

 

“Aren’t you going to introduce your,” the lady stumbles over the word, “friend to us?”

 

“Oh!” Steve gives a little start, his gaze sliding rather demurely over the rest of the family before settling on her face again. “Jen, this is --”

 

“My name’s Bucky.” His voice comes out a little louder than he meant it to, and everyone suddenly is staring at him a little bit harder. “It’s, uh,” (Un)surprisingly, he wilts a little under the priest’s stare, but he picks up his pep again and charges forward easily enough. “It’s short for James Buchanan.”

 

“Your name is Bucky Buchanan?” Steve’s brother -- is he his brother? Bucky decides he does not care at all -- pipes up, a stupid grin on his stupid face.

 

“What? No. My last name is Barnes.”

 

“Your middle name is Buchanan? Did your mother --”

 

“That’s my mother’s maiden name,” Barnes says simply, which shut the kid up quickly enough.

 

“I remember a family called Buchanan,” the priest says suddenly, and Steve stiffens slightly. “They lived in Queens.”

 

“Oh. Well, I’m from Brooklyn. Sir.”

 

Steve has to bite back a smirk, being -- as usual -- the only one in the room who notices the sarcasm dripping in Bucky’s voice. Except then he notices Jen has turned away, headed towards the kitchen, and he is almost certain he saw her smiling, too. “Um, Buck, that’s -- that’s Jennifer, and Joshua and Ruth…” He takes a shaky little breath, and Bucky slips an arm around his waist, much to the chagrin of everyone watching. But it gives him the courage to finish: “And, um, Father Noah.”

 

Bucky blinks. “Those are all Old Testament names, aren’t they?”

 

“...Yeah,” Steve says quietly.

 

“Huh. I was expecting like, Luke, and Mary-Magdalene.”

 

“We’re not Catholic,” Steve says, very very softly.

 

“Well, I know you’re not --”

 

“It’s little ‘C’ catholic, Buck.”

 

“Huh.” Bucky smiles suddenly. “Expecting bad weather tonight, sir?” he asks Noah.

 

Steve’s eyes go wide in a _‘what the hell why would you even think about doing that do you hate me’_ sort of way, but thankfully the priest has already stepped through the doorway, apparently less than interested.

 

Each sibling trails towards the dining room, as well, leaving Steve frowning after them.

 

“What?”

 

“C’mon,” Steve says, gesturing Bucky towards the kitchen after Jen, who honestly looks stunned to see them each take a dish and bring it into dining room. Thankfully, Jen seems to have set the table and left a space for the couple to sit together. They take their seats, but not before Steve doubles back to check the kitchen, holding the door for Jen and the main course.

 

“Steve, would you like to --”

 

“Say grace, boy,” Noah snaps, cutting cleanly into what his wife was trying to say. It makes Bucky bristle at him, but Steve just mutters, “It’s not worth it.”

 

Then he clears his throat, and in a dry, well-practiced voice, says, “Bless us, oh Lord, in these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord.” His eyes are on Bucky’s every other second, but surprisingly, they remain blue.

 

He even says, “Amen.”

 

“Thank you, Steve. Enjoy, everybody!” She says, not too loudly, but loud enough for them to hear her. Her eyes are on Steve and Bucky as she says it.

 

Once the family are all settled down, napkins unwrapped and silverware arranged, they begin to tuck in.

 

Steve slowly puts some carrots into his mouth, trying his best to avoid eye contact with anyone and start up some kind of awkward conversation. It doesn’t exactly work in his favour though, as Ruth starts on the questioning.

 

“So, what do you do, Buchanan?” She asks, stabbing a potato with her fork whilst making quite sinister eye contact with him.

 

Bucky swallows his mouthful of food, not breaking the gaze. “I’m currently unemployed,” he answers.

 

“Ruth is a real estate worker!” Noah says proudly, turning to look down the table at his daughter.

  
Steve has Joshua sat next to him, and his foster parents opposite. He’s just silently thankful that Bucky is beside him, occasionally reaching down underneath the table to squeeze his hand.

 

“Steve is great help to the Church… Isn’t he, Noah?” Jen taps her husband’s arm, but he moves away.

 

“Yeah, when he can be bothered to turn up.” Joshua mutters, answering for his father.

 

Steve bites his tongue, holding back a retort.

 

An awkward silence looms over them for a few minutes.

 

“Well, Steve’s been feeling under the weather,” Bucky says, his eyes on each of them in turn. “That cold front, you know?” He’s about to say something more, when suddenly Steve elbows him in the ribs.

 

“What?” he whispers, and then he sees what. He didn’t even need Steve’s gesture -- his eyes fly directly to the tortoiseshell cat sitting peacefully in the doorway. “Steve, not every cat is Dani,” he mutters.

 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “except we don’t have a cat.”

 

“I -- wait, what?”

 

Jen’s eyes follow their gaze, and she brightens. “Oh, that’s right! Stephen, we have a cat. I didn’t think to warn you, I know you don’t come here very often and with everything going on it just slipped my mind. Are you going to be okay?”

 

Steve honestly looks like he’s perfectly happy to have an excuse to leave, except… he notices something. Jen’s tone is light, but the expression on her face said something different, like maybe she wanted him to stay. He glances at Bucky, who shrugs, and then bites back a sigh. “It’s not a problem, actually,” he says. “My allergies have been acting up lately, so I’ve been taking some medicine.”

 

Jen looks relieved, but Steve can’t quite help but feel like he was making a mistake.

 

Until the cat jumps on Bucky’s lap with a tiny little ‘mrrp’. Bucky glares at her, but she just butts her forehead against his chin and curls up.

 

“Why do you always insist on sitting there?” he hisses at her.

 

“What was that?” Jen asked.

 

“Cats.” Bucky realizes that is not actually an answer to the question, and clears his throat to try again. “They, um. They like me.”

 

“Oh. Well, his name is Whiskers.”

 

Steve snorts. _“His?”_ Dani lets out a hiss and bats at his arm with her paw. He reaches over absently, scratching her behind the ears -- until Bucky pushes her off his lap, grabbing Steve’s hand himself.

 

The eyes of every single person at the table jumps to their hands.

 

“You know, Steve, that’s a very nice shirt,” Jen says loudly, not exactly breaking the tension, but definitely gaining everyone else’s attention back again.

 

“Thanks. It’s, uh, Ralph Lauren.” It actually isn’t, but that’s the first brand that came to mind. Bucky’s eyebrow arches, but he says nothing. Dani chirps from under the table, winding around Steve’s ankles, and Steve smiles slightly. With these two, it really isn’t so bad.

 

But then he feels his chest tighten, and he launches out of his chair into the hallway, trying to make it to his jacket, still hanging in the entryway. He doesn’t quite get to his inhaler in time to stymie the coughing fit.

 

He hears a concerned meow from the doorway after it passes, and manages a wane smile at Dani. “It’s okay,” he promises quietly. “Just… old stress, you know?” It’s hard to tell with cats, but he could have sworn she rolls her eyes at him. “I mean it. I just… They’re always like this. I never should have brought Bucky over.” She trots over and sits squarely on his feet, staring up at him, and he sighs. “You know, it would be easier if you just turned into a person,” he mutters. “I don’t speak cat. Latin, sure, maybe, but not cat.”

 

He jumps when sudden raised voices reach his ears, and the two of them dart back towards the dining room. Upon entering, Steve becomes aware that the Father has clearly caused tension whilst he was out of the room. He’s staring down Bucky, who’s about to reply to whatever he’d said.

 

“I respect your views, Father — well, actually, I don’t — but, I personally do not agree that I’ll go to hell just because of the person I love. You and your wife, you have made love… right? So, what does it matter if me and your son do just that?” Barnes finishes.

 

“He is _not_ my _son_.” Noah speaks with such a bitterness, that Steve feels tears prick at his eyes.

 

Nobody had noticed him standing in the doorway. Not until… “Bucky. We are leaving now.” He attempts at raising his voice, but it comes out in a broken manner instead.

 

Everybody turns towards where he’s standing. Steve doesn’t wait a second longer, not even to ensure that Bucky is following him. “Thanks for the invitation, Jen, but I can’t,” he says over his shoulder. Then, he marches out into the hallway to grab his jacket, a few stray tears already creating dark spots against his shirt. Dani leaps after him, through the front door and out onto the porch where she transforms.

 

“Steve, you didn’t --”

 

“Yeah, I did.” He takes a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around himself, and then jumps a little with surprise when Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in tight. After a moment, Dani wrapped her arms around both their waists, grumbling slightly when she can’t quite reach all the way around, but letting out a happy little hum all the same when Bucky, sighing, drapes his other arm around her shoulders, too.

 

Steve sneezes suddenly, which makes Dani jump. “That’s right!” she says quickly, ducking out from under Bucky’s arm again. “Here, I made a spell for you. It’s another one you have to drink, but I left that at the bar, so in the meantime…” With a flourish, she produces a hexbag, the strings dangling from her finger. A gust of wind hits the street, and her eyes narrow, following the bag. “Here.”

 

This time, Steve doesn’t hesitate or waste time asking stupid questions. He merely catches it from her, slipping it around his neck and tucking it under the not-Ralph-Lauren shirt. “Thanks, Dee.”

 

Dani and Bucky both stare at him, and then Dee lets out a sound that probably only dogs can hear. “He called me Dee!” she squeals at Bucky, throwing her arms around Steve’s neck.

 

“I’m standing right here, I heard him,” Bucky grumbles.

 

“Yeah, well, hush,” Dee retorts.

 

“I… Do we go back to the bar, then? For the spell?” Steve asks, with a hesitant glance at Bucky.

 

Dani brightens, almost glowing even in the dusk. “Absolutely,” she said with a grin. She offers her hand to Steve, who merely peers at her dubiously. “C’moooon, it’s cold out here,” she pouts, wiggling her fingers at him. She offers her other hand to Bucky, who rolls his eyes and takes it. That seems to bolster Steve’s courage, and he reaches out.

 

“You know,” Bucky says, “I really --”

 

The world disappears for a moment, that feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube returning, and when Steve comes to his senses he’s sprawled on all fours, gasping, on the floor of the bar.

 

“-- really hate travelling like this,” Bucky finishes, winching and combing his fingers through strangely windblown hair. He crosses the room and hauls Steve to his feet, wrapping his arms possessively around his waist.

 

“You could have warned me,” Steve splutters, leaning heavily against him. He coughs again, quite unable to get the smell of candy floss out of his nose. “Why does it smell like --?”

 

“Aesthetic.” Dani turns on her heel and gestures them towards a room Steve hadn’t ever noticed before, off the side of the bar.

 

“What’s --?”

 

“It’s quite a large spell,” she says brightly, swinging the door open. It’s quite dark inside. “Go ahead.”

 

Steve hovers in the doorway for a second, blinking in the darkness. He can make out the shadowy outlines of a table and two chairs, and looks back at Bucky, who’s equally nonplussed. “Dee, what is this?”

 

“Oh. Right.” She snaps her fingers, and suddenly about a hundred candles spring to light. Big ones, tall slender ones in candelabras, tiny little tea lights littering the wide table in the middle of the room, but that’s not all. Dani flicks a light switch and thousands of little fairy lights flicker to light overhead, floating in what looks like dark blue gossamer fabric like a sea of stars.

 

“I thought you two might like to have your date,” she whispers.

 

Bucky stares at the little room, stunned, then back to Dani. “How did you…?”

 

“This has been sitting in here for weeks, okay?” Dani laughs. “I was waiting for one of you dorks to ask, and then you didn’t, and when you said you were going to miss your reservations, I just thought I’d get it all ready for you.” She gives a dainty shrug and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Look, you two had a hard night, and it would have been hard even if one of you hadn’t been possessed by the King of Hell and had to face an ex-boyfriend.” Steve turns and stares at Bucky, mouthing either ‘king of hell’ or ‘ex-boyfriend,’ it’s hard to tell, but Dee presses on:

 

“And, you two really deserve it. Okay?” She starts to say something more, and then trails off when she sees tears slipping down Steve’s cheeks. She nudges Bucky hard in the ribs, and he finally tears his eyes away from all the lights, and settles his arms around Steve, pulling him in close and resting his chin on top of Steve’s head. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her eyes wide, suddenly sounding terrified she’d done something wrong.

 

“It’s just,” Steve says thickly, clearing his throat. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.” His voice starts out as a whisper and by the time he’s finished, it’s barely even a breath. “I don’t know what to say, Dani. Thank you.”

 

Dani is blinking rapidly, and then the tears spill over. “I’m sorry everyone else you know are jerks,” she says tersely, turning on her heel and stomping over to the bar, grabbing a box of tissues, taking about five for herself before stomping back, handing them over to Steve.

 

“So whatever you want, music, or food, or drinks, I can probably arrange it. I don’t know for sure, but I think Natasha has Frank Sinatra’s soul somewhere, so, there’s always that option.”

 

“Frank Sinatra sold his soul?” Bucky asks suddenly, his head jerking towards her.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“But --”

 

“He didn’t sell it,” she says, and then turns back into a cat before he can ask any more questions.

 

Once she’s slunk out of the doorway, the door closes behind her. Bucky and Steve make their way towards the table, and sit down. The lack of menus means for not knowing what to do with their hands, so Bucky reaches across the table and holds Steve’s instead.

 

“What were you gonna order at the restaurant?” Rogers asks, looking across the table at his boyfriend.

 

“Uh… I was going to see what you ordered, actually. I haven’t eaten a proper meal in years.” He answers truthfully.

 

A grin forms over Steve’s face. “I’ve always wanted to share a milkshake with my date,” he says.

 

Before Bucky can think of a reply, a silver trolley squeaks into the room. Sure enough, sitting atop is a large glass and two straws inside. There’s a little, heart shaped note card that reads ‘what flavour, honeys?’ Written in in beautiful calligraphy.

 

Steve looks to Bucky, who shrugs in response. “Strawberry, please.” Steve decides for them.

 

“Shouldn’t we, uh, have a main meal first?” Barnes starts laughing.

 

His boyfriend folds his arms over his chest. Then he starts to smirk. “Have you ever watched Lady and the Tramp?” He starts giggling.

 

Bucky runs his hand down his face, an obvious blush forming. Steve brings Bucky’s other hand — still in his own — up towards his face, and kisses it. “What? I thought you liked Disney,” he teases, as another silver trolley trundles in.

 

This time there’s two plates of spaghetti bolognese upon it, and a jug of freshly prepared milkshake in the middle. Steve isn’t sure how, but the jug pours itself into the glass, and everything is served to them without one drop spilled.

 

As Steve pokes his fork into the spaghetti mountain and tries some, he almost choked when ‘Be Our Guest’ begins blaring throughout the room. “Just kidding,” Dani’s voice breaks through the jaunty tune, which is then replaced by a smooth jazz track.

 

“So,” Rogers starts, twirling his fork around the pasta. “What exactly is this hex bag for?”

 

Bucky looks up from his own plate, and chuckles at the man. “I love you, but sometimes you’re a dork.” He mutters.

 

Steve can’t help but smile as he hears Bucky say those words. _“Whaaat?”_ He whines, pouting for extra effect.

 

“It’s so she can hangout with you more. She likes you,” Buck says. “And, Dani doesn’t take fondly to many humans.”

 

“So, I’m like… her pet?” Steve scrunches up his nose and frowns.

 

Bucky laughs aloud. “Yeah, kinda.”

 

“But wait. She was human once, wasn’t she?” Steve asks, glancing towards the door. Dani appears in it in a moment, flour on her nose, and frowning. “Well, weren’t you? You don’t exactly seem like a demon, and your eyes don’t turn black. And you can turn into a cat.”

 

“Well, yeah, I was human once,” Dani says, but there’s still some wariness in her tone. “I mean, Bucky was human once, too.”

 

“And Nat?”

 

“No idea,” Bucky said, which made Dani look at him in surprise. After a moment of seeing the wheels turning in her head, Steve gets to his feet, crosses the room, and closes the distance between them, pulling her into a hug.

 

Bucky stares at them, mouthing, ‘This is my date’ at her, and she just rolls her eyes, burying her face in Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Thanks, Steve,” she mumbles. She clenches her hands into fists on the back of his shirt for just a moment, but then she’s pushing him away. “Sorry. I’m ruining things.”

 

Steve looks a little surprised, but goes to take his seat again all the same. He nudges Bucky under the table with his foot, and mouths, ‘Say something.’

 

“Dani, I’m sorry,” Bucky says, a little begrudgingly; but then he blinks, and he realizes it’s true. “Sorry. Really. The feelings thing is kind of new.”

 

Dani just shakes her head at him. “I know that, dummy. But look, I’m not trying to steal your guy.”

 

Steve stares at her for a moment, then looks at Bucky, confusion paramount on his face. “What?”

 

Dani rolls her eyes. “Someone else has my heart,” she says gently. “No offence.”

 

Steve’s eyes dart to Bucky. “But, what makes you think --?”

 

“Nothing. Forget it. It’s stupid.”

 

Bucky glances at Dani, more than a little helplessly, and she just shrugs, turning on her heel and disappearing into the main room.

 

“Look, Buck,” Steve starts, trying rapidly to put together a string of words that at least slightly resembles his feelings. “I-I... would have sold you my soul, you know. To… to stay with you, or whatever. I know you don’t want to hear that, but that’s where I’m at.”

 

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Steve, I’m not going to --”

 

“I’m not asking you to,” Steve says earnestly. “It’s just, I would do anything for you. And I know you would do -- Bucky, you broke out of Hell for me. Okay? I know where this ends. At least, I think I do.”

 

“Oh, yeah? And where’s that?”

 

“With you next to me.”

 

Bucky smiles, a definite blush settling atop his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, but becomes interrupted when Natasha bursts through the door.

 

“You could at least knock,” he grumbles.

 

She stares at him for a moment, slowly taking in the two of them, the many, many candles, the food. "Они приходят," she says simply, and even though he has no idea what that means, Steve can see the color drain from Bucky’s face.   
_(They are coming.)_

 

"Что? Какие?" There’s a sharp edge in Bucky’s tone — anger, definitely, but something else as well, something Steve struggles to place. _(Who?)_

  
Nat sounds resigned when she answers: "Демоны. Армия Ада, а может быть даже Король сам." After that, a long silence reigns, stretching between them like a gossamer thread that snaps when Bucky clears his throat and looks away.   
_(Demons. The army of Hell, and maybe even the King himself.)_

 

"Сколько у нас времени?"   
_(How much time do we have?)_

 

"У нас нет. Прибудут теперь в любой момент. Я не знаю, как они нас нашли, но…” Nat opens her hands in a gesture that can only suggest defeat.   
_(We don't have **any**. They'll arrive any moment now. I don't know how they found us, but...)_

 

Bucky heaves a sigh, his gaze calculating as he examines her. Then he shrugs, managing a very brave smile. "Мы никогда не было бы в безопасности навсегда."   
_(We were never going to be safe forever.)  
_

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

_Мы никогда не было бы в безопасности навсегда."_   
_(We were never going to be safe forever.)_

 

Seconds later, Dani runs in behind her girlfriend, her eyes wide; she is still holding a cocktail glass she’d apparently been cleaning. “Tasha, what is it? What’s wrong?” She asks, worry laced throughout her tone.

 

Natasha sighs. “There’s an army headed straight for us… Hell’s army.”

 

“What?!” Steve helps, practically falling from his chair in fright, and it’s that movement more than Natasha’s proclamation that makes Dani drop the glass. It shatters, and she stares at it for a long moment before snapping her fingers, where it reforms at her feet.

 

“Do you have a safe room?” Bucky looks at Dani, who’s nods warily. “Take Steve,” he instructs.

 

Natasha turns to her girlfriend. “And lock yourself in too.”

 

“No! No way. I can help,” she protests, folding her arms across her chest.

 

“Not this time. It’s much too dangerous,” Natasha says softly, and there’s something in her eyes that Dee has barely ever seen before — _fear_.

 

Wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist, Dani mumbles something inaudible to everybody else. “Be safe,” she says, breaking apart from the hug only to initiate a kiss instead.

 

Natasha pulls away much too soon, but stays close for a moment to brush her hand along Dee’s jawline. “I will. But you two have to go. Now.” Her eyes dart over to Bucky, and her eyebrow quirks upward in a can’t you get on with it? gesture.

 

Bucky rushes towards Steve whilst this is all going on, and grabs him by the waist with quite a force. Their lips press against one another’s, and then Bucky pulls him even closer into a tight embrace. “I love you.” He whispers into the crook of Steve’s neck.

 

“I love you too, Bucky.” Rogers says, beginning to tear up.

 

Now that each of the couples have said what needs to be said, they switch partners. Dani grabs Steve by the hand, and pulls him out of the room. They head for a corridor that Steve had no idea even existed, and follow it right to the end. There’s a door that looks to be made of… iron? And, it has some sort of sigils engraved all of the way around it. There is also a devil’s trap etched into the flooring, which Dani and Steve have no trouble at all stepping over to get inside.

 

“This room was Nat’s idea,” Dee explains, shoving the door closed behind them. “I never thought we’d actually need to use it.”

 

Inside are a set of bunk beds pressed up against the far right wall, shelves to the left of it that are stocked with various canned foods and bottled water. There are more sigils painted all over each of the walls too, and a pile of blankets scattered about the flooring.

 

“Dee,” Steve begins, a few stray tears falling. “What’s going to happen out there?” He asks.

 

“Oh, honey.” She steps forwards, wrapping him in a hug. “Just try not to think about it. Bucky and Nat can do this, I know it.” She tells him, rubbing circles against his back… but, the truth is, she’s more than terrified, too.

 

The moments tick by in silence, except for a few stifled sniffs and sighs, and rather a lot of muffled expletives from outside the bar. After a while, Dani looks at Steve. “Well, at least as long as he’s shouting, we know Bucky’s okay.” But apparently Natasha’s stoic nature translated to the battlefield as well; they couldn’t hear how many were fallen. Just increasingly hectic sounds of the fight.

 

Eventually, even the shouting dies down.

 

“Dani --?”

 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Stevie.”

 

“No, I just… I’m sorry you got mixed up in all this.”

 

“Honey,” Dee laughs, “sweetheart, I’ve been mixed up in all of this since before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye.”

 

“Yeah, but --”

 

“It’s not your fault. Sometimes these things just happen… and the rest of us just have to go along for the ride.”

 

Steve considers that for a moment, then sniffs. “Some ride. When do we get off?”

 

“Hopefully soon.”

 

“...Do you think Bucky’s done something to deserve this?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well -- He’s a demon. And, you know… God --”

 

“This has nothing to do with God,” Dani snaps. After a moment she seems to realize she’d overreacted, just a little, and merely shakes her head, letting out yet another sigh. “Sorry. It’s just, no one’s seen God in decades.”

 

Steve stares at her for a long moment. “Sorry, God is _real?_ ”

 

“...Sorry, what do you think you were praying to, before?” Dani laughs. “Yeah, he’s real. He’s probably even out there doing something, it’s just no one’s seen him. But seriously, this is about souls. Not God.”

 

“Souls? But I didn’t sell mine.”

 

Dani’s smile lingers for a moment longer. “And don’t you think that’s made all the difference?”

 

Steve looks nonplussed, trying to work his way around that cryptic explanation. “What exactly do you --” He pauses when Dani suddenly looks up, squinting at the ceiling, a deep frown on her face. “Dee?”

 

“Shh.” She brings a finger to her lips, still staring at the ceiling, then hesitantly touches that same finger to a seam in the metal wall. Something bright white, not quite light, though it definitely looks impossible for it to be anything else, flows _(does light flow? Steve has no clue)_ to fill up a row of lines that all seem to form… sigils. The style isn’t unlike the symbol he’d seen carved into Natasha’s chest -- old magic, Bucky had called it.

 

Steve doesn’t exactly know what to make of old magic, but it’s honestly rather eerie. He chances a glance at Dee’s face, to find her still looking upwards in concentration. And when he looks up -- he sees a ward flicker and fade away, the white light snuffed out.

 

Dani sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Damn it.”

 

“Dee?”

 

“Company,” she whispers, as another ward fails.

 

“But who could be doing that?”

 

“At this point, it’s not a ‘who,’” she answers, swallowing hard. “It’s a ‘what.’”

 

“Well, then… Wait, what?”

 

“Sometimes demons hold on to what it felt like to be human,” Dee points out gently. “Look at Bucky.”

 

“And Nat?”

 

“I -- well, yes,” Dani answers, a little too quickly. “She has an idea what it feels like to be human, too.” Steve’s nose crinkles as he processes that, so she merely charges on: “But others, they have long since shed that memory, or lifestyle, or whatever it is that makes some demons the cuddly beings we know and love.”

 

“I wouldn’t exactly say --”

 

“You went ice skating for your first date.”

 

“...Okay. That’s a fair point.” Another ward flickers and dies out, and he forces himself to follow the conversation, if only to keep the panic at bay.

 

“But the others… Lose it. All demons are some level of evil, otherwise they wouldn’t be what they are. Sometimes that’s as little as the simple act of selling your soul, of giving into temptation and losing just enough of your righteousness to make that pact.” She shrugs. “But some, like those demons out there, fighting to get to B -- well, to all of us, they’re so steeped in evil they have no redemption.”

 

“Are you saying demons can be… redeemed?” The word feels so foreign in his mouth.

 

“Under very specific circumstances.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Well, I don’t know, exactly. It involves some sort of cosmic influence.”

 

Steve absorbs that in silence, and startles when he hears something that sounds like footsteps in the hall behind. His arm instinctively slips around Dani’s waist, and she gives him a squeeze back. “So far, they’re holding,” she whispers.

 

Steve nods, but his heart isn’t in it. “Dani? Were you a demon? Did you get redeemed?”

 

Dee let out a scoffing noise. “Do I look like I’ve been walking around stealing bodies? No, thanks, kiddo. I’ve had this one since Day One.”

 

“Of?”

 

“My life, silly. I’m not that old.”

 

“And Natasha?”

 

“No idea.”

 

“But you --?”

 

“I’m serious, I have no idea. And, honestly, I know better than to pry.” She smiles slightly, and Steve can’t for the life of him figure out why.

 

“But you know her so well. Better than Bucky, and he’s a demon, too.”

 

“Well, I’ve known her longer.”

 

“And you never sold your soul?” Steve realizes that he is still in the realm of way-too-personal questions when Dee rolls her eyes.

 

“Nope. Souls are too precious a commodity, kiddo, you can’t be willy-nilly about where you put all that firepower.”

 

“Huh. I guess I didn’t think of them like that.”

 

“Humans usually don’t.” She smiled gently, patting his arm. “Which is totally okay, it’s just a good thing you still have yours.”

 

Steve looked a little relieved at the reminder, but after a moment his expression becomes a little bit more serious. “How _did_ you get mixed up in all this?” he asks tentatively.

 

“How do you mean, ‘mixed up in this?’” she asks, her eyebrows rising. “I’m not mixed up.”

 

“Well, sure, you didn’t ask for any of this to come crashing up to your doorstep like deranged trick-or-treaters.”

 

“...Wrong season, Stevie,” Dani says with a laugh, which cuts off sharply when yet another ward flickers and vanishes overhead. “But, I mean, I was a witch when I was human, too.”

 

“But you’re not human anymore.”

 

“I am not, no.” She sounds a little nervous, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the existential peril or the subject at hand. Well, probably the subject at hand. “Not technically, you may notice the lack of decay, or black eyes, or --”

 

“A halo?”

 

“I -- What?” Her cheeks flush suddenly. “What, no, I’m not an angel.”

 

“Oh. But I thought -- if you’re not human anymore, and you’re not a demon…” He shrugs. “Then again, it doesn’t make sense why an angel would be in a relationship with a demon, anyway.”

 

“It’s been known to happen,” Dani says, shaking her head. “I mean --”

 

“Well, yeah, you’re a figurative angel.”

 

If Dani had been drinking something, she probably would have choked at that moment. “Jesus, Steve, if you were interested, that may have worked a few centuries ago,” she laughs. “But, really, I’m involved in all of this because Natasha’s --”

 

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because the still-faintly glowing sigils overhead all burn out like old lightbulbs in one fell swoop, leaving them in relative darkness.

 

“D-Dani?” Steve squints into the dim, but the problem is soon solved by the door being pushed open, letting a line of light into the room, the silhouette of a person darkening the doorway.

 

Dee pushes Steve behind her, folding her arms and levelling the figure with a glare. “You,” she says in a hiss, and the venom in her tone surprises Steve (and, if he’s honest, frightens him more than a little). “You get the hell out of my bar.”

 

The man -- there’s enough light now for Steve to tell that it’s a man, at least -- merely pushes the door the rest of the way open, and lets more light spill into the room. It’s then that Steve can see his face… and the realization hits him. He’s seen that face before, in a faded black-and-white photograph behind the glass of a computer screen.

 

“I _know_ you!” Steve blurts suddenly, and the man’s eyebrows rose.

 

“Not as well as I know you,” he replies, tossing a cursory glance over his shoulder before his attention fixes on Steve again.

 

Steve freezes in his tracks, or he would, if he had been moving. He knows that voice, too. He’s heard it in his head, when… “But -- wait. No. It’s you? But you and Bucky were --”

  
Dani looks over her shoulder, a warning in her eyes.

 

“Were what?” His expression remains neutral, but his voice is probably cold enough to turn the whole saferoom into ice. “Close? Veterans of the same unit, in a war that was as close to Hell as Earth could ever get? _Lovers?_ ” He notices the blush flare in Steve’s cheeks, and he just lets out a laugh, but it’s dry and cold as his voice had been, and the smile that lingers about his face doesn’t reach his eyes. “Or enemies?” He shakes his head at the boy. “You don’t know anything. Stop acting like you can save that pathetic waste of space.”

 

Steve feels like he’d been slapped in the face, but whatever he’s about to say is thoroughly interrupted by Dani kicking Jude in the shins. “You absolute arse, Jude. I don’t care if you are the king of Hell, you don’t get to decide who’s a waste of space.”

 

“Beg your pardon, ma’am, but I do,” he says. “At least, I do when I’m in charge of their soul.”

 

Somehow that makes Dani laugh, which makes Steve blanch a little, because that doesn’t sound like anything remotely funny. “You think you have Bucky’s soul?” She rolls her eyes. “You really just don’t want to admit what’s happening, do you? That’s why you’re all up in arms. All over one soul, I bet if any of your followers knew that, they’d turn around in an instant and leave you here to deal with us.”

 

“Dani, what are you even talking about?” Steve asks weakly.

 

“Well, usually, one soul getting out of hell doesn’t warrant an army. And Bucky and Nat know what they’re doing, so there’s obviously some dwindling numbers going on up there. I bet no one really knows that they’re risking their afterlives just for one sorry grudge.”

 

Steve stares from Dani to Jude, trying to process that and ultimately failing. “How aren’t you scared shitless right now?” he asks her in a whisper, his voice dropping.

 

“I am scared shitless,” she hisses back, much too low for Jude to hear. Then she cleared her throat, her attention going back to the evil son of a bitch in front of her. She seems to have stalled just enough -- there are footsteps in the hall outside.

 

Except it isn’t Natasha. It isn’t even Bucky -- or at least, it isn’t Bucky, alone. He’s standing alongside somebody who Steve also recognises from that same image on his computer screen. He’s unsure of the man’s name, but formalities can surely be saved for a later date -- except, wait. His eyes were black, too.

 

As the demon steps forwards, he brandishes a knife… a weapon strikingly similar to Nat’s knife. Almost exactly in sync, Dee and Steve gasp. Their shared stances move as if they’re about to charge forwards, but a singular glance from Bucky causes Steve to stop. He grabs Dani by the wrist, but in a way that won’t bring any unwanted attention towards them from Jude.

At this moment, the King turns on his heel to inspect the two newcomers. His eyes flicker downwards to what Bucky’s fellow soldier is holding, and a mocking laugh falls from his lips. “Oh, _please_. Haven’t we been through this once already?” Jude rolls his eyes. “That can’t kill me!”

 

“Nope.” Another voice adds to the conversation, and this causes Jude to spin back around again. His eyes settle upon Natasha, and whilst he’s occupied with becoming noticeably amused by each person’s efforts, Bucky steps into the room. _Over_ the devils trap. “But, I know something that can,” Natasha continues, effectively stealing Jude’s attention again.

 

The iron door closes with a thud that echoes throughout the confined space. It’s seems as if Jude is struggling with where to focus his attention, as he swivels around yet again. But, this time he can’t draw his eyes away from what he sees. Not one of them can. Because, through the small panels of glass that situate against the wall, a bolt of lightning strikes at just the right moment… revealing a shadow from behind Bucky’s figure. Except, the shadow isn't just of his silhouette. It’s of a striking pair of wings too.

 

Steve’s jaw practically drops to the floor at the spectacle before him — even Dani gasps quietly, and her hands, which have been clutching his since Jude made his entrance, tighten on his. “What the hell?” He whispers, fixated on Bucky, who’s… smiling? But it isn’t a smile like any Steve has seen on his face -- the pensive ones, the nervous ones, the I-don’t-really-know-how-to-tell-you-how-I-feel ones. It’s… strangely relieved. And remarkably pleasant, given the situation.

 

“Not this time, Stevie.” Dee whispers under her breath, but in the moment Steve doesn’t take her comment into consideration.

 

Jude is wide-eyed and staring as he takes all of this in, and he takes a step back at the light that flashes in Bucky’s eyes when they meet Jude’s. “That’s -- impossible,” he manages, but he can’t deny the weird crackle of energy here. He turns and his eyes hit each of them in turn, finally settling on Natasha. “You’re behind this. It’s always you, at every turn. You and that harlot --”

 

“Don’t call her that,” Bucky says, his voice a growl. Steve is relieved to realize Bucky still sounds like himself, even with the whole… glowing… issue, but there’s a quiet confidence behind the words that wasn’t there before.

 

“Why shouldn’t I? You know why she’s still alive, don’t you?”

 

“I don’t care.” Bucky stretches an arm out, and surprisingly, Jude backs away again, though he is still trying to hide how frankly terrified he is of this turn of events.

 

Natasha lets out a hiss when Jude steps on her, and then says, cooly, “Bucky, if you aren’t going to do this, then I will.”

 

“What?” Steve asks, a quiver in his voice.

 

“...You might not want to see this, kiddo,” Dani whispers back.

 

He’s pretty sure that he knows exactly what’s going to happen next, as Bucky’s hand gets closer towards Jude’s forehead. Something seems to be holding him on the spot, and Steve can’t help but notice how Nat seems to be concentrating towards him. Or, maybe it’s just a coincidence.

 

Seconds before Bucky is about to complete what he’s vowed to do for centuries, he catches Steve’s eye. They aren’t closed, like Bucky had expected them to be, but there’s a familiarity to the look across his face. That look of fear is enough for him to drop his hand back against his side, because a reminder of what Steve used to think of Bucky is enough for him to want to rush over there and apologise for all he’s ever done to scare him.

 

“I knew you couldn’t do it,” Jude sneers, acting as if he hadn’t just been cowering away from Bucky’s hand.

 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Bucky hisses back. He pushes Jude away, but turns away too quickly, so quickly that he’s unable to react when Jude launches forward, wrenches the demon blade Natasha had clutched in her hands, and rams it into Bucky’s back, looking satisfied as electricity crackled in the air.

 

Bucky gives a little groan of pain, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Dani and Steve are both motionless, staring at him, holding their breaths, both not wanting to believe he was --

 

“Well, that wasn’t very fun,” he manages, stepping away from Jude at taking the knife with him, looking terribly uncomfortable.

 

“But you -- that’s not possible,” Jude stammers yet again. “That should have killed you.”

 

“Not this time,” Natasha says quietly, but there’s a cold edge to her voice that makes Steve uncomfortable. For a moment he expects her to go for her blade, but she doesn’t. She merely puts her hand on Jude’s forehead. For a moment, there’s a look of stunned recognition and honest-to-goodness fear on the face of the King of Hell… And then a flash that illuminates the whole room, and he’s left crumpled in a heap on the floor.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the last chapter!! Thanks so much for reading... and, be sure to keep your eyes open for the prequel, as well as another story that will relate to the whole ‘mythology’ theme!

 

There is a moment of stunned silence, and then a thudding knock on the iron door. “Is everything okay in there? Because there was kind of this weird flash… thing.”

  
The room seems to let loose the breath it had been holding, and Bucky suddenly starts laughing, reaching over to haul the door open. He stares at Henderson for a moment, then steps forward and scratches his heel across the painted demon’s trap, ignoring the stunned, betrayed gasp that leaks out of Dani. Instead, he reaches over and pulls him into a hug, clapping a hand on his back. Henderson starts to do the same thing, then blanches a little at the knife still in Bucky’s back.

  
Natasha steps forward, sighing something that sounds like, _“Honestly,”_ and yanks the thing out. Steve buries his face in Dee’s back, shuddering a little. He hoped he’d never be that used to that.

  
“Thanks for that, Henderson” Bucky says, smiling slightly, now giving Henderson’s hand a firm shake.

  
“It’s Peter,” Henderson corrects, easily enough. “I just -- you know, someone should know.” Seventy years is a long time, and James isn’t sure if he’d long since forgotten that, or if he simply never asked while they were both alive.

  
“Yeah. But still, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  
“Well, it’s like I said in the Pit, man. You’re not like all the others.”

  
  
The room falls silent again, until a tiny sound cuts through it — the quiet hiss of an inhaler. Everybody turns to look at Steve in that moment, as he steps out in front of Dee.

  
“What is going on?!” He yelps suddenly. “Just when I thought I was finally coming to terms with my life, you all go ahead and do this! Quite frankly, I’ve had enough of it! I want to be able to have a date with my boyfriend, without being interrupted by hell’s entire army and their king. I don’t want my boyfriend to be stabbed in front of me, only to mention that it _‘wasn't fun’!_ ” Steve would have gladly continued ranting, but is cut to an abrupt stop when his body realises he’s not intaking as much oxygen that’s actually necessary.

  
Dani’s eyes widen at this point, and she grabs him by the shoulders. “Your boyfriend is your Guardian Angel, Steve, oka —“

 

“Not helping,” he squeaks.

  
Bucky is by his side within literal seconds, and he wraps his arms around him like he never wants to let go.

  
“We should talk,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to Steve’s neck. They break apart, only to close the gap again with their mouths this time.

  
“We should talk _now_.” Nat raises her voice, genuinely scaring Steve enough to stumble backwards.

  
Everyone looks at her expectantly, as she makes her way over to the door. They follow in her footsteps, back towards the bar. But, Natasha stops just before the entrance, and turns to Dani.

  
“Look, it isn’t as bad as it looks, we can —“ but, Dee is already tearing past her into the main room. All the rest of the group hear after that is a kind of cross between a high pitched squeak and some sort of feline mannered growl.

  
“You got dead people all over my favourite table!” She whines, sounding genuinely disheartened by this, yet so casual at uttering the statement at the same time.

  
“Well, dead _demons_ ,” Bucky corrects, and Steve hits him in the shoulder.

  
The rest of them head into the main room, and Steve’s stomach does a slight backflip at the gory sight laid out before them. Almost as if Bucky can sense his discomfort, he rests a comforting hand atop of his shoulder. Meanwhile, Dee is mumbling things to herself, rushing around back and forth and into other rooms. This whole fiasco last almost fifteen minutes, and then she renters their company again.

  
“Nat, do the thing,” Dee says, glancing over at Henderson.

  
Natasha utters something under her breath that Steve is sure sounds Latin, and then she places her index and third fingers against Peter’s chest. “Ow! What was that for?!” He jumps backwards, his hand clutching at where she had previously brushed against.

  
“ _That_ , was for this.” Nat nods her head in the direction of her girlfriend, as Henderson takes a peek at the sigil now burnt into his chest. Dee then raises her arms and exclaims a spell.  
Seconds after, and each and every one of the dead demon vessels disintegrate before their eyes. “Oh,” Henderson coughs. “Thanks.”

  
A high pitched _“hmm!”_ Escapes out of Dee’s voice box, as she brushes down a table. She picks up a few still intact chairs, and they follow her silent directions by each taking a seat.  
“I’m going to strengthen the wards tonight,” Dani tells Nat, who gives her a respectful nod of agreement.

  
Steve stares at everyone sat around the table. If somebody had told him that he’d be idly chatting with a demon, an angel, a witch and another… wait a minute. “How did you kill the King of Hell, if you’re only a demon?” He looks towards Nat.

  
Dee casts a surprised glance Steve’s way, and then turns in her chair, pointing a finger at the destroyed table next to them and watching it piece itself back together. She could feel the coolness floating in waves off of Natasha, but unlike the other two… Well, after a century or two you gain immunity. Somehow.

  
“That was… an emergency,” Nat says with a sigh.

  
“An emer -- I’m sorry, what?” Bucky shakes his head, breaking the tension and the stillness with the gesture. His voice is a little louder than he intended it to be, and for a moment the floor shakes. The table, still repairing itself, wobbled on its still singular leg before toppling over and shattering again.

Dee turns and levels Bucky with a glare cold enough to freeze his soul. Which is… honestly a weird feeling, because Bucky’s never really thought a his soul as something he had. He clears his throat, having the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters.

  
Steve just stares between the three of them again. “Sorry?”

  
“I -- yeah.”

  
“What is going on?” Steve can feel the panic rising in his chest, and takes a shaky breath. Dee glances his way for barely a second, then shoots to her feet, walking through a door Steve had never even noticed, and coming back with a tiny hex bag that smelled strongly of mint. “Don’t die,” she says as she tosses it at him. Then she makes her way behind the bar.

  
Which is… a travesty, honestly. Most of the bottles are broken, and alcohol and other liquids are pooled on the floor. Dani winces slightly, sure that some of those weren’t supposed to mix, ever, but steps over the puddles as she tries to rescue one bottle that was only broken in half, and therefore is half full. It’s vodka, but then, beggars can’t be choosers.

  
“Here.” She produces five shot glasses seemingly out of nowhere, carefully portioning out the vodka from the broken bottle. “You’re going to need this. Nat can’t get drunk, but she probably needs it, too.”

  
“Nat can’t get drunk?” Steve asks. “Can all demons not get drunk, or --?”

  
“We can get drunk,” Bucky says, and Henderson nods in agreement -- then pauses, his eyes on Bucky, looking a little confused. Steve, Nat, Henderson and Dee stare at him, too, and Bucky frowns. “... _Can_ I still get drunk? Because if I have to give that up to have a soul, I’d really rather --”

  
“Bucky,” Steve gasps, which is enough to shut him up.

  
“I have no idea if angels can get drunk,” Dani muses. She casts a glance at Nat. “Can they?”

  
“If God can get drunk, I assume angels can, too.”

  
“ _God_ can get drunk?”

  
“Where do you think those water-tornadoes came from?”

  
Bucky, Steve, and Dani all make some variation of the sound, “Huh!” all at the same time.

  
“You learn something new every day,” Dee says, taking a dainty sip of the drink with her little finger sticking out. “Which is saying something after five hundred years.”

  
“How are you actually that old?” Steve asks suddenly, totally forgetting about the actual issue at hand. Dee merely looks scandalised.

  
“Well, she doesn’t have a heart,” Nat says, and then takes her shot… well, like a shot.  
His brain tries to process this information, but seemingly fails. Steve picks up his shot glass and mimics the same action Natasha had just performed, only after he’s finished the strong contents he sort of chokes. Bucky ‘helpfully’ smacks him on the back.

  
“I… I need more,” Steve squeaks, his face contorted slightly.

  
Dee gets to her feet again, but before she heads over to the bar, picks up her shot and finishes it. “There might not be more, thanks to _some_ people.” She mutters, strutting over out.

  
Upon arriving back at the table, Dani reveals an untouched bottle of whiskey. “I forgot I had this,” she admits, setting it down in the centre.

  
Henderson nods approvingly, but Nat grabs the bottle before he can lay a hand on it. “Right,” she says, pouring everybody a glass — they can’t use shot glasses this time. “If I explain this, you’re going to be some of the only people in the universe that know — God being one of them.” Steve chokes.

  
Dee looks at her girlfriend, concern etched into her expression. Bucky looks at Henderson, who nods. “As much as this has been fun, I’m not a fan of cosmic secrets.” He gets to his feet, as does Bucky.

  
They hug for a few seconds — Steve pretends not to see this — and, then Henderson disappears.

  
“Okay—“ Nat begins, but is abruptly cut short a second later.

  
“You’ve met _God?_ ” Steve asks, breathless.

  
“Yeah, he used to play guitar at CBGB in New York every Thursday night back in the ‘70s.” Nat shrugs. “Not a big deal.”

  
“I… The 1970s?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“...But -- you met _God_ in a bar in 1970?”

  
“No, I met God in Rome --”

  
“Well, that’s fitting,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

  
“-- in 40 A.D.”

  
“I -- That’s… th-that’s a long time ago,” Steve says quietly.

  
“Was he drunk?” Dee asks.

  
Nat rolls her eyes. “No.”

  
“Are you sure?”

  
“Pretty sure.”

  
“Why were you in Rome?” Bucky asks, breaking the rising argument.

  
“Business,” Nat says, stiffly, looking into her whiskey. Without hesitation she lifts her glass and knocks that back, too.

  
“...Demon business?” Steve can’t help but look amused. “Or just, regular… accounting?” He wilts a little under Natasha’s glare, then takes a rather large gulp.

  
“Soul business.”

  
“So, yes, demon business,” Bucky adds. He tips back the shot glass… and then frowns. It doesn’t even burn.

  
Dee lets out a groan. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re going to be bad for business.”

  
“Oh, yeah?”

  
“Because you’re not going to pay for that. Are you?” Bucky just smirks, and reaches for the bottle again.

  
Steve is still trying to process what Natasha had said, and was staring at her with an odd look of concentration. “You’re not a demon,” he says suddenly.

  
Bucky turns sharply, looking at Steve like he had lobsters coming out of his ears. “Steve, don’t be ridiculous --”

  
“Correct,” Natasha says. Dee lets out a groan when Bucky just takes another shot and reaches for the bottle once more.

  
“You’re also not an angel,” Steve says. “Because you do the black eyes thing. Unless -- are you _Satan?_ Bucky, are you best friend with literal Satan?!”

  
He finishes his glass, and takes the bottle from where Bucky has left it situated handily beside him. “No… I mean, I don’t think so.” Bucky tries not to laugh, turning to look at Natasha.

  
“I am _not_ Satan,” she says.

  
“Oh, good!” Steve hiccups, almost falling off his chair.

  
Dee giggles, but stops when she sees the serious look on Nat’s face.

  
“I’m the soul keeper,” she says simply. “I decide who goes where, and whether or not they stay.”

  
Bucky looks considerably more shocked than Steve — but, then again, he is the sober one. “So, you decided that I didn’t belong…” he pauses. “Down there?” His voice is reduced to a whisper.

  
“Somewhat. But, don’t go getting all sentimental on me. You’re not even supposed to know,” Natasha warns.

  
“Do you have a memory zapper? Like in that movie?” Rogers asks.

  
Nat raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s called whiskey.” She mutters.

  
“I don’t think there’s enough whiskey in the county to get Bucky _that_ drunk,” Dee says, sounding more than a little bitter as she stares at the half-empty bottle. Then she shrugs, pouring herself another drink.

  
Steve stares between them all, then lets out a sigh. “I -- I’m just going to… Just gonna, um.” He gets to his feet, more than a little unsteadily, but shrugs off Bucky’s hands when he reaches up to steady him.

  
He wanders towards the door he’d just seen Dani walk out of, certain that there was a hall -- he’s pretty sure that Dee says something somewhere behind him, but he can’t hear it over the amount of effort it takes to focus, grab the door handle, and pull the door open.  
He steps over the threshold, and pauses. Then he looks back into the bar, which is swimming slightly at this point. Then he looks back into the room.

  
Except it isn’t a room. It… looks like a whole entire, narrow, long little shop. Far too large to actually fit in the building that houses the bar itself. There’s a band playing somewhere just outside the window, which is definitely not helping the headache building in his skull. “I -- what?” He says it very loudly, and his voice is much higher-pitched than he would have liked, but he really doesn’t care. “Dani, you have a store in your bathroom,” he says dazedly.

  
“If you think that’s the bathroom, we’ve really got to have a chat, Stevie,” comes Dee’s voice.

  
Bucky gets to his feet, hurrying over and catching Steve when he stumbles back, the back of his heel catching the rise of the threshold. “Dani… You don’t have something that’ll sober him up a little?”

  
Dani rolls her eyes. “He got himself into the mess. He can get himself out of it.”

  
Steve turns his attention back to the shop. He can’t see the back of the shop, because it’s crowded with books. There’s a tiny, narrow, nigh on claustrophobic little tunnel to the back of the shelf, that appears to be made of books… but also shelves along the walls, covered with herbs and flowers and crystals, and… ooh.

  
“This one’s the color of your eyes, Bucky!” Steve says happily, dragging Bucky towards the shelf and holding up a blue stone.”

  
“Please don’t let him break anything. Or throw up,” Dee calls.

  
“Right.” Bucky stares around at the fragile stones and dried herbs, and catches Steve by the shoulders, gently steering him back to the bar. “Listen, maybe you shouldn’t be in there right now,” he said hurriedly, but he‘s smiling. “Maybe you should -- it’s been a long day. You should get some rest.”

  
Steve shakes his head. “Bucky, they stabbed you.”

  
“Didn’t feel a thing,” he said softly. “Don’t worry, Stevie.”

  
“But you… You’re an entirely different _being_ , Buck.”

  
Bucky just lets out a little laugh, leaning forward and nudging Steve’s nose with his. “Nah, I’m the same me. And you’re the same you. The rest of the universe is just weird.”

  
Steve’s breath catches, and he can’t stop staring at Bucky’s eyes. He’s so close. “Pretty sure you’re still weird,” he whispers. But he leans forward, too, closing the distance between them and brushing Bucky’s lips with his own. “But you’re my weirdo. And I love you.”

  
Bucky just laughs, and kisses him back.

 


End file.
